


Waiter, There's a Fluff In My Soup!

by CrackingLamb



Series: Til It Squeaks: A Modern Girl's Take on Thedas [4]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Carly & the Ancient Elvhen Boyband, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Fluff-uary 2021, Modern Girl in Thedas, Multi, Platonic love is important too, Romance, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-03-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 10:00:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 28
Words: 27,742
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29133696
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrackingLamb/pseuds/CrackingLamb
Summary: A multi-ship romp of fluffy prompts!  Featuring Carly and Solas, Dorian and Iron Bull, Varric and Hawke and more.  These all exist within the worldstate of Twist, an MGIT AU.  Pairings and/or POV will head each prompt in the author's notes.NSFW will be marked with **.As always, beta'd by Iron_Angel.
Relationships: Cullen Rutherford/Original Female Character(s), Felassan (Dragon Age)/Original Character(s), Female Hawke/Varric Tethras, Female Lavellan/Solas, Fen'Harel | Solas/Female Lavellan, Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus
Series: Til It Squeaks: A Modern Girl's Take on Thedas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1830358
Comments: 237
Kudos: 50





	1. Flirting

**Author's Note:**

> 2/1/21
> 
> Carly and Solas.

Carly hadn't gone through the chest of her armor in a long time, and it needed to be done. She propped up the top and bent over the rim of it to sort through what she would keep and what would be taken apart for the components. She heard footsteps on the stairs as she worked, slow and even and so light as to be nearly silent. Solas. She kept working.

“You make quite a sight to greet me, vhenan,” he said from somewhere behind her. She peered over her shoulder and saw him staring at her upturned ass.

“Oh, really, ma fen? Are you saying you prefer me bent over? Not in my experience.”

“Is that a complaint I hear?”

She snorted at him and went back to sorting. He was now totally silent as he crossed their chamber, but she knew he was there. She could just about feel his aura around her before his hand landed on the curve of her backside. She didn't jump, but she might have arched her spine a little. His touch sizzled, even through the heavy leather of her breeches.

“Something I can help you with, my love?” she asked, pulling apart a tangle of gauntlets and greaves.

“I am merely admiring the view.” His hand slipped lower, his fingers nearly brushing between her legs. She hid a smile from him and kept working.

“Ahh, well, don't let me interrupt your viewing.”

“Do not let me distract you, as well,” he replied smoothly, definitely brushing his hand lower in order to do just that. If he saw her fingers tighten in the wadded up jacket in her hand, he made no comment on it.

She stood up, pulling the jacket up with her, ostensibly to shake it out. The reality was that her back was killing her from being bent over like that. Solas's hand stayed firmly attached to her ass, she noted idly.

“Oh, you're no distraction, ma fen. This shouldn't take me too long. Just weeding out the older stuff now that I don't travel as much.” She held up the jacket. It was of dark leather, worn and patched in places. She remembered now why she'd kept it. It was her first set of prowler armor, way back from when she'd initially arrived in Thedas. Harritt had fitted it to her that first week in Haven. She'd worn it for months until it was more holes than anything. Leliana had gifted her an entire bearskin for Satinalia that year, in order for her to make herself something new.

“I remember that set,” Solas said, nearly whispering in her ear. A shiver went down her spine. She loved that particular soft tone from him.

“Yeah?”

“Mhm.” He stood behind her a little more directly, his hands sliding around her waist to the buttons on her top. He began to slip them free one by one, waiting for her to tell him to stop. As if that would ever happen. “You wore it well.”

“You mean I wore it to pieces,” she snarked. He'd undone enough buttons to slip his hand under the material. His palm was rough against the skin of her belly. He had a warrior's hands, for all that he'd once posed as an apostate. One of many little details she'd often wondered at being overlooked by everyone around them when he was still pretending to be nothing more than a hedge mage.

He chuckled in her ear now, still playing with the buttons on her shirt with one hand and smoothing the other across her skin. “It is true that it served less well for protection than aesthetics towards the end.”

She snorted. “You were barely paying attention to me as a desirable object then.”

“You think not?” His hand spanned across her ribs, just under her breasts, beneath her unbuttoned top. She lolled her head back against his shoulder and looked up at him. His eyes were dark as they met hers, the pupils blown wide. The expression in them made her shiver. He didn't usually let it out, but she adored this side of him.

“Well,” she murmured, watching his face as he finished unbuttoning her shirt, “I guess I do recall being told that my grace was a pleasing side benefit to being a good archer. And that you would accept no argument on the matter.”

“And that is still true.” His hands fell away from her body to the sleeves of her top, tugging at them so it slipped off her shoulders to plop on the floor. “As clumsy as that compliment was at the time.”

“You? Clumsy? Never happened. That's not in your nature, Fen'Harel.”

“Hmm.” His fingers were tracing up her arms, one brushing her hair away from her neck and inviting her to tip her head to the side. She knew what he wanted and she wasn't about to stop him. Her throat exposed, his lips followed the path his hand had taken, until he reached his favorite spot at the crook behind her ear. He bit her and held her tight as she shivered in his arms. “Ar isala ma,” he whispered. “Mala.”

“Right now? Right in the middle of my armor pieces?” she teased as lightly as she could manage considering she'd forgotten how to breathe.

“Right now, vhenan.”

“Well, who am I to deny the Dread Wolf?” She leaned back against him and let him play, pushing her hips into his. “Are you going to bend me over?”

“I might.”

Ar isala ma. Mala - I want you. Now. (In a particularly lustful way). Courtesy of Fenxshiral's Project Elvhen.


	2. Acts of Devotion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/2/21
> 
> Dorian and Iron Bull, featuring Krem.

Dorian would not normally be the first to admit when he was at a loss, but...

He was at a loss.

It wasn't often that Bull was injured enough to have to sit out a battle, and even more rare that he allowed himself to be confined to Skyhold while the Inquisitor left it. To make matters worse, Bull had allowed Dorian to see just how much pain he was in. Their relationship had either just entered new territory or something was _seriously_ wrong with the Qunari. It wasn't even like there was anyone he could ask. Carly and her team were gone Maker knew where this time and she was the only other person who knew Bull as well as he did. Well, aside from the Chargers, he supposed.

He sighed. There was nothing for it. He had to man up and ask for help.

“Cremisius Aclassi,” he said, marching into the Herald's Rest to find his fellow Tevinter sewing something...pink.

“Altus,” the Charger returned. It wasn't impolite, but it wasn't particularly warm and friendly either. Dorian sighed internally this time. It was his own fault he didn't know any of Bull's men better. But in his own defense, he didn't get much of a chance with the schedule they all kept.

“I wonder if I might...ask something rather personal.”

Krem lifted his head from his sewing – it appeared to be some sort of toy animal, hadn't he heard something about the young man sewing stuffed toys for the children in the Inquisition? – and gave Dorian a neutral look that nevertheless asked _what_.

“How does the Iron Bull take his cocoa?”

That was clearly not what Krem was expecting and he suddenly guffawed, muffling it quickly into his fist before the whole tavern heard them. He finally got himself under control and gave Dorian a steadier expression, although the mirth was still dancing in his eyes.

“May I ask why?”

“Obviously so I can make it for him,” Dorian snapped testily. Then he threw his hands in the air, exasperated at himself for making this into such an ordeal. “I just...I just want to do something for him. While he recovers.”

“That's very...commendable,” Krem said, looking like he was assessing Dorian anew. He tucked his needle into the toy and stood up. “C'mon, I'll walk you through it, Pavus.”

The pair of them must look ridiculous walking into the Skyhold kitchen, Dorian realized as soon as they set foot in it. The staff were all elves, and they all looked up from their various jobs in shock. He nearly turned tail and ran. Krem's greeting to the head cook, however, had him staying in place. It was apparent they knew the lad well.

“Don't mind us, Misyl,” Krem said. “I just need milk and cocoa and the usual spices.”

“Of course, ser,” the plump elf replied and waved her hand at the cold storage unit. At least, that's what it must be according to the rune stamped on it. Dorian couldn't remember ever actually being in a kitchen before. Not even as a small boy sneaking treats. Or at least he hadn't paid attention to anything important if he had.

Krem got out a copper pan and poured a healthy measure of milk into it, setting it over a low flame on the nearest free stove. “You have to warm it slowly, otherwise it will burn. Milk isn't water, you know.”

“I'm aware,” Dorian said, still testy in spite of himself. Krem smirked. “Yes, fine, I've never cooked a thing in my life. Happy now?”

“Nobody's perfect, Altus, but we'll see if we can't make a real man of you yet.”

“Oh, ha ha.”

Krem's grin was broader and more genuine and Dorian made an effort to let go of his own misgivings in taking on this adventure. “Bull likes his cocoa bitter, so only half the sugar I'd normally put in this.” He showed Dorian how to measure it and stirred it into the milk which was now faintly steaming. Small bubbles had formed at the edges. “That's hot enough. Cocoa melts pretty quick.”

They moved away from the stove and next there was a tutorial on how to measure and chop the thick brown brick that Dorian knew came from Seheron. He liked cocoa himself, but he had no idea it came in a block such as this. Krem didn't chop it too fine, just enough that the chunks would melt into the hot milk. He had Dorian stir it, making sure all the lumps were gone before they moved on to the next step. Which was apparently chili powder.

“Really?”

“You've never had it this way?”

“Can't say I have.”

“Just a pinch, mind. Too much and it's ruined, even for the Chief's palate.”

The spice bloomed in the scalded milk, which was now the familiar dark color Dorian knew from rainy winter mornings in Minrathous during the sessions when his father was gone and his mother was shopping and the slaves took pity on a small, lonely boy. But the scent of it was like nothing he'd ever experienced. Heady, rich and delicious. Clearly he'd been having the wrong kind of chocolate his whole life.

Krem poured the whole thing into a stout mug and handed it to him. “And there you go.”

“Thank you, Krem.” Dorian injected as much sincerity into his voice as he could, dropping all his pretense at irreverence. The lad noticed too, his eyes grew soft and his smile warm.

“You're welcome...Dorian.”

He carried the mug carefully from the kitchen and up the stairs to Bull's chamber. It was situated in one of the guard towers that overlooked the tavern, and on a _good_ day was drafty as the Void, although Dorian knew Carly had been planning to fix that as soon as she could. He kept the mug hot with a touch of magic, but let it lapse before Bull could see. Still jittery about that, he was, the big lug.

“Bull? I have something for you.”

He stepped into the chamber at Bull's grunt and saw the Qunari laid out across the bed, his leg wrapped tight in bandages from knee to ankle. He'd taken quite a slice from a fear demon and aside from the fight itself, which had already unnerved him, he'd needed numerous stitches since he didn't want to let Solas touch him. To his credit, the elf hadn't said a word about it or taken it personally. Their friendship was often rocky, although less so now that Bull was Tal-Vashoth.

Dorian crossed the room and handed Bull the mug. His face lit up when he smelled it and he was grinning before even took the first sip. He sighed with satisfaction once he did and Dorian was suddenly exceedingly grateful he'd swallowed his pride and asked Krem to help.

“Did you make this for me, kadan?”

“Well, not precisely.”

“Did you have Krem make it?”

“He showed me. Next time I'll do it myself.”

Bull eyed him over the rim of the mug before he put it down carefully on the bedside table. Without any warning he hauled on Dorian so that he fell into him in a sprawling straddle that had absolutely no dignity to it. Not that Dorian was really complaining. He _liked_ Bull's big hands. “We'll see. I'll drink it anyway. Thank you, kadan.”

“You're welcome, amatus.”


	3. First Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/3/21
> 
> Cullen and Ava.
> 
> Ava is an OC created mostly by my beta. She is the niece by marriage of Arl Teagan Guerrin, and came to to the Inquisition as a messenger before becoming one of Leliana's scouts. Carly asked her to spend time with Cullen, to be his friend, and maybe fall in love with him because the Commander deserves to be happy too.

“Checkmate,” Ava said, pinning Cullen's king into a corner with a castle and her queen. The Commander shook his head, rueful.

“Forgive me, I seem to be distracted today.”

“That's three games in a row I've won. Something on your mind?”

“No more than usual. We don't have enough supply lines and the newest recruits are so green the grass is envious. I've had four injuries among them in the last day alone.” Cullen rubbed the back of his neck as he trailed off. “I'm sure you aren't interested in all this...”

“How many times have you used that excuse?” Ava asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew it plumped up her cleavage and she knew he knew it too. His gaze caught on the open collar of her tunic for the barest second before skittering away. She suppressed a smile and stared at him hard until he met her eyes. He was a tough nut to crack, she'd give him that. Nervous as a new foal, shy to the point of pain when it came to small talk, but she knew his reputation. He was a good leader to his men, a stern taskmaster. The Inquisition had asked a lot from him, and he'd delivered.

What the Inquisitor had asked of _her_ was no less weighty, although she found it no hardship. She could see that Cullen needed a soft touch. Occasionally that soft touch needed a firmer hand, however.

“What excuse?” Cullen barely managed to mumble out, finally remembering the question.

“The one where you think I wouldn't be interested in your duties because I am not a warrior. Do you think none of us in the Guerrin household know how to fight? How to supply troops and command legions?”

“Of course not. It's just...”

“Yes?”

He flushed a dark red and she had a hard time not biting her lip where he could see. She chewed the inside of her cheek instead, to keep her laughter well hidden. Maker, he was so easy to rile up. For nearly six weeks they'd danced this dance. Chess, conversation, the occasional meal in the Great Hall. She was ready for it to move forward, although not so much as to make him uncomfortable if he was not. Then he surprised her.

“When I”m with you, I don't want to be thinking of my duties.”

She smiled at him. “What would you rather be thinking of, then?”

For just the merest second his gaze landed on her lips. Then he looked away. He stood up and offered her a hand. “Let's walk, shall we?”

She tucked her hand in his and when he made to let go of her, she tightened her fingers on him. He looked startled, but said nothing. They climbed the stone steps up to the battlements overlooking the valley below. The breeze was fiercely crisp, but it carried none of the bite she expected from a winter wind in the mountains. She'd heard other residents talk of old magic, protection from the elements and some such. It didn't matter to her as long as it kept out the snow.

They stood at the guardian wall and she watched his face change as he looked out at the view. It softened and relaxed and she realized just how enamored of that look she'd become. Here, in the cold and the wind and the wide open sky, she could almost pretend they were in Ferelden. She knew he missed it as much as she did.

“It's quite the strategic location,” she said, sparking up the conversation they often had when they walked here. But today Cullen frowned when he looked at her and didn't take the bait.

“Ava...”

She leaned into him a little, thankful that she hadn't stopped growing until she could look her uncle the Arl in the eye. Her height put her nearly even with the Commander and she wasn't above using that to her advantage.

“Yes, Cullen?”

He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. She let a little smile cross her own before she darted in closer and pressed her lips to his. For a moment he was shocked stiff, but by the time she was drawing away, he was already pulling her back.

“How long have you wanted to do that?” he asked, his voice a soft rumble between them.

“A while,” she admitted.

He tugged off his gloves one by one and dropped them to the battlement stones. Then he threaded his fingers into her hair. His lips were warm and his breath warmer still on her chilled cheeks. He kissed her softly until all at once he seemed to give in and slanted his mouth across hers. She clung to his armor and drank him in. Little sips of air passed between them where no words were needed until he pulled away only to rest his brow on hers.

“I confess, I've been wanting to do that too.”

She smiled at him again and tucked her hands deeper into his thick mantle. “Then perhaps we should practice some more.”

A boyish gleam lit in his eyes and he grinned at her. “All right.”


	4. Awkward, But Cute

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/4/21
> 
> Varric and Hawke, ft. Jespa (AKA Walnut)

“Marian!” Varric shouted up the stairs. “We're going to be late.”

“I know, I know,” he heard her shout back. He paced in the foyer and pretended he was upset. The truth was, of course, that he'd rather stay in than go to some charity event for the city guard, even if Aveline had begged and pointed out that as he was the Viscount, it behooved him to make an appearance.

The door opened upstairs and he heard clicking on the tiles that didn't sound like their Mabari. He stood at the bottom of the stairs in time to see Hawke appear, tall, regal and elegant in a sheath of a red and black dress that showed off both her muscular physique and plentiful curves. He smiled appreciatively.

“Well, Stinger, I guess that was worth waiting for,” he said, leaning on the banister.

Hawke stuck her tongue out at him. “Compliments, darling? Is that where we're at now?”

“We're always there,” he said.

She smiled and started down the stairs and Varric saw the source of the clicking sound. She was wearing stacked heels. They were high, and so slender it was a wonder she could balance in them. She towered over him, which was nothing new, since she was human. Still, she towered over him more than usual.

“You're going to fall over in those, my love.”

“I will not,” Hawke retorted. There was a bounding sound and before either of them knew it, Walnut raced from their room and down the stairs. The Mabari swept past Hawke and bumped into her hip and Hawke teetered dangerously before she fell backwards to land on the steps with a hard thump.

“Blight it, Walnut!” she snapped.

The brindle colored dog sat at Varric's feet and panted with her tongue out, looking supremely pleased with herself. Varric chortled and stepped closer to offer Hawke a hand getting up. The stairs were marble, and therefore slippery and Hawke's foot slid out from under her as soon as she got any weight on it. Varric pitched forward and she thumped back with a squawk and they both began to laugh.

“All right,” Hawke said. “Maybe I shouldn't wear these.”

“To the ball anyway.”

“Oh? Is there somewhere else you'd like me to wear them?” The look in her eye was foxy and he grinned.

“I have some ideas.”

“Of course you do, you salacious writer.”

“Don't disparage my craft,” he teased. He braced a hand on the steps and leaned in closer to kiss her. “Cassandra would be heartbroken if I stopped.”

Hawke snorted. “Fine. In the meantime, I suppose I should find some other shoes.”

She kicked off the heels and the dress slid back on her thighs, showing off the long length of them. Varric ran his hands down them, once again marveling at how he'd gotten so lucky. He let them glide back up her legs and under the hem of the skirt. Hawke hummed a pleased sound that made his pulse jump.

“Varric, let me up or we'll never make it.”

“Let's skip it then and stay in,” he whispered.

Hawke shoved against his chest, her nails biting into his skin with a little bit of promise. “We promised.”

He pulled his hand out from under her dress and sighed. “Fine. One hour. Then we're coming home.”

Hawke stood up and smoothed out the lines of her dress before dashing back up the stairs in her bare feet. Varric collected the discarded shoes and set them neatly together on the bottom step. Oh yes, he had plans for her in those shoes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey, look. I finally figured out a nickname for this Hawke...after almost a year.


	5. Gifts

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/5/21
> 
> Carly and Abelas

Carly's first Satinalia in Thedas had passed while she was on the road back to Haven from the Hinterlands. Thus, there was little celebrating. Not that she'd really even thought about it since for her the holiday didn't have much impact. The world was in chaos and Christmas wasn't anything anyone knew about here. And she had no connection to their version of it.

Her second Satinalia in Thedas was in Skyhold. And she owed all her joy in it to Cole. He found holly somewhere in the surrounding mountains and brought her an armful. She'd decorated her mantle in her chamber, threading the spiky leaves around fat Chantry candles. Even Solas thought it was pretty, although he didn't fully understand the deep seated nostalgia the sight of it gave her. Later, when she had the time, she found Cole had gone a step further and convinced her head cook to make gingerbread. She sobbed like a child.

Her third Satinalia in Thedas was expected to be quiet. Corypheus was dead, the Breach was sealed for good, Solas was deep in his study of red lyrium and the Inquisition had started to disband voluntarily. Well, it had started to move out of Skyhold, at any rate. Most of her companions had gone back to their lives from before, and many of the soldiers had gone home to recover from the years of madness that had reshaped the world. Because there were fewer people to feed, there were fewer supplies being brought into the fortress. Ginger among them. Misyl wouldn't be able to make gingerbread this year. Carly wasn't upset; once the pass was closed, it wasn't like anything was able to come up to the fortress. Nor was the Eluvian network common knowledge. And honestly, it was silly to get upset over such a little thing when there were other ways she could celebrate a piece of her home world.

She really was fine with it. Really.

“Da'Fen,” Abelas greeted her on a blustery day, his hands full of some wrapped parcel. She hadn't seen much of the Sentinels lately as they were just as busy with Solas's plans as he was. “I have something for you.”

“What is it?”

He handed her the parcel and stood by, face impassive but oddly thrumming with hidden emotion, as she opened it. Inside a layer of coarse raw silk she found several dried roots of ginger, tied together with twine. The roots were well preserved – dried but not desiccated – but the fabric was ancient. She looked up at him and felt a sting of tears.

“Thank you, Abelas. Where did you find it?”

The tiniest smile curved his lips. “I went back to Vir'Abelasan. There were many caches of items we might wish to have as we served there.”

This was more than a mere gift of ingredients, she realized. This was a piece of Elvhenan in her hands. And he had just given it to her as if it was the most natural thing in the world to share. With her. A mortal elf. The sting became a flood she was almost unable to stop. She held the ginger tight in her hand and made an effort to control her face before she embarrassed them both.

“Would you like to see what I'm going to do with it?” she offered, sniffing back the threatening sobs.

“I would, Da'Fen,” he replied, very gently and with more understanding than she expected.

 _Of course he understands_ , she thought to herself, _he's lost his whole world too_.

They ground the root together, and with Misyl's help they made the dough and set it aside to ripen. One of the last things she'd gotten Harritt to make before he left Skyhold was a set of cookie cutters. He'd given her a strange look, but didn't complain. And when the dough was ready, Carly, Misyl and Abelas rolled it out and made gingerbread men in the kitchen of Skyhold.

And when they were baked and cooled, Carly had the singular experience of teaching an ancient Elvhen Sentinel how to pipe frosting. And the sight of _that_ was a gift beyond price.


	6. Holding Hands

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dorian and Iron Bull.

“Kaffas!” Dorian swore as he teetered on the wet stones. He was certain the ignominious drop into the water was coming; there was no avoiding it since he had nothing to grab onto to steady his balance. It was shameful that he'd gotten himself into this position in the first place. The ford was shallow, yes, but wide and trying to cross the waterway without getting soaked to his knees had been important for some reason or other.

  
Ah yes, because it was freezing cold and he didn't fancy walking another hour back to camp with wet feet.

  
A large gray hand appeared in his periphery as he wobbled on the stone he'd thought for sure would hold him and hadn't. He took it. When he looked over at Bull, the hulking Qunari was facing a different direction, scanning the treeline on the other side of the river. Bull helped him across and then let his hand go as soon as they were on the path leading into the trees. He said nothing the whole time.

  
Contrary to the persona he crafted for public consumption, Dorian was rather introspective, on the whole. When one was alone, they had only their thoughts for company. And he had spent much of his life alone. He watched Bull's broad back in front of him as the man joked with Carly about something or other. Solas walked at her side, taking in the bantering with a small smile on his face and the infrequent, dryly offered interjection. The Inquisitor often chose himself and Bull to accompany her on missions along with her lover. She threw them together so often it had sparked something he never thought would happen. In fact, he recalled quite clearly stating it _wasn't_ going to happen.

  
And then it did.

  
It was casual, of course. Qunari didn't engage in the sort of relationships other races did. At least...that was what Dorian had always been told. And certainly he could make the case that Bull had only taken his hand because he was about to fall. And because he was Ben-Hassrath, his training had him observing everything, all the time. Even with just one eye.

  
It was a lovely excuse, really. Neat and tidy and just about wrapped up in a bow.

  
And he knew he was lying, both to himself and to everyone else.

  
For in the dead of night, when Bull's nightmares woke him in his bedroll and he in turn woke Dorian with his thrashing, their fingers would mesh. Bull would clutch him like a lifeline, and Dorian said nothing of it, didn't draw attention to it, because he _knew._ He knew what it was to have to hide any vulnerability.

  
He would tuck the massive hand that swallowed his own whole against his chest, curling himself to fit in the curve of Bull's side and he would pretend – just for a moment – that by holding him steady, he could keep him. In the morning, they would still be like that, slack muscles and relaxed limbs, and their fingers entwined. Bull wouldn't pull away until he heard the camp waking, when the gentle sound of conversation between Carly and Solas began. Or the scouts changed shifts and murmured to each other of the night's quiet.

  
There were rarely words between Dorian and Bull of that nature. Lack of practice, he supposed. Or lack of need. Bull was canny under his bluster. And Dorian was vastly more private than he let on. The frivolous Tevinter facade was just that. He kept his real thoughts to himself. And yet the great beast of a man somehow knew them anyhow. It would be disconcerting if he wasn't appreciative of the acceptance that came with it.

  
“You all right, Dorian?” Bull asked him, out of the blue, it seemed. And just when he was thinking that they didn't do that, too.

  
“Yes, of course.”

  
“Hmm.” Bull rolled to his side, propping himself on an elbow so his horns cleared the floor of the tent. He was very warm behind Dorian's back and he secretly reveled in it. It was always so _cold_ here! “You're thinking awfully loud over there.”

  
“It's nothing important.” He flattened his palm against Bull's, his tanned skin contrasting so sharply to the gray. His fingers barely brushed the middle knuckles of his partner. Bull suddenly loomed over him, pulling him back against his chest so they were flush together. Dorian let out an undignified 'oof' that was silenced as Bull's teeth nipped the edge of his ear.

  
“Liar,” he whispered.

  
“Let go of me you giant. I can't breathe with your hands all over me like that.”

  
Bull chuckled. “I know. You like it.”

  
Ahh, and there it was. The bald truth. He did like it. Far too much to hope for it. Men like Bull didn't stay and men like Dorian didn't ask them to. They didn't talk of things like the future. Or what this even was. They most certainly didn't talk about _love._

  
Dorian spread his fingers across Bull's hand and to his surprise, he did the same, lacing their mismatched digits together. They stayed that way in the soft morning glow until Carly went by their tent, banging on the support pole.

  
“C'mon you two lazybutts. We've got places to be. You can hold hands on the road. I promise I won't tease. Much.”

  
Bull called out something in Qunlat. Dorian didn't understand a word of it, and to his knowledge, neither did Carly. But evidently Solas did. The elf laughed out loud, a rare sound that was becoming less so now that he and the Inquisitor were firmly a pair.

  
“Remind me, vhenan, to set up silencing wards tonight,” was his only comment.

  
“What was that about?” Dorian asked as Bull finally released him and sat up in preparation for the groaning and complaining that was his usual morning routine for getting to his feet. Dorian rolled out of his way, coming to sit on his haunches in case the far more chronically sore than he ever let anyone see Qunari needed his help.

  
Bull flashed him a grin and took his hand again, holding it between them like a secret. “I'll tell you later, kadan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a note: my internet is still pretending it's 2005. We're talking dial up slow. I will try to get to any comments, but no promises.


	7. Long Walks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/8/21
> 
> Carly and Solas

Caer Bronach was running smoothly and Carly hadn't taken very long to check it with all her scouts and agents. The Inquisition wouldn't be in possession of the place much longer; she was turning over control of it to Arl Teagan, since Crestwood was within his arldom. Their work was done in the region, and she had no reason to hold onto it other than convenience. The arl had already assured her that her scouts and runners were welcome to maintain their routes as they had, as long as they broke no Fereldan law. Carly was happy enough with the arrangement.

In the meantime, however, she had plans of her own.

“Come with me, ma fen,” she said to Solas, taking his arm as he wandered through the market rather aimlessly. He raised an eyebrow at her, but followed her just the same out the huge main doors and onto the road that led away from the fortified keep.

She looped her arm in his as they walked together, the noise of the Caer fading away behind them. The road was clear of bandits these days and they hadn't bothered with even bringing any weapons. Not that Solas needed any to begin with.

“Where are we going, vhenan?”

“We're fixing a memory.”

They emerged from the overhang of the Glenmorgan Mine and started to climb into the hills near Three Trout Farm. She drew him off the main thoroughfare and onto a side path wending its way up a steeper slope. It looked so much better now to her eyes without the red lyrium outgrowths marring the landscape and she stopped to take in the view for a moment.

Solas chuckled and she thought he might have figured out where they were headed. “I thought you said you would kill me on principle if I ever brought you here.”

“Good thing you didn't bring me. _I_ brought _you_.”

“Ah, a fine loophole.” He tucked her hair behind her ear and shook his head at her. “I am a bad influence upon you, I think.”

“What do you mean? You've been a wonderful hahren for teaching me malicious compliance.” She grinned at him impishly and got what she wanted. Her favorite snorting laugh.

They finished their uphill trek and entered into the little glade where the wolf statue stood guard before the cave entrance. Solas finally stopped her, holding her hand tight in his so she couldn't walk off without him. “Are you certain?”

She turned to him and sidled close enough to have to tip her head back to see his face. “Make me a better memory here, my love.”

He smiled gently down at her upturned face and planted a kiss on the end of her nose. “All right.”

They navigated their way through the twists and turns of the tunnel before the clearing and she laughed as she pointed out all the deep mushrooms growing from spider bodies. With a completely false air of indignation he conceded that yes, perhaps there were entirely too many of them to think this place romantic. Then the tunnel opened up into the secluded glen and they stood and looked at the peaceful setting for a moment. She leaned on his arm and thought about how once this would have given her all sorts of terrible anxiety. But not now. Not so assured of their love and trust in each other.

Solas took the lead then, still holding her hand loosely in his own as he found a nice patch of grass and sank down on it, tugging her to follow. They talked of small things and she teased him about the thinness of the Veil. He responded by tickling her until she shouted. The sun was slipping towards evening and the little wyvern cave grew long shadows that blurred the edges of the stones and the tall halla statues.

“You still have your vallaslin,” he said.

She nodded. “I could have anyway. There was an option to turn you down, you know.”

He held her close in his arms, her body now draped across his lap after their bout of tickle wrestling. He whispered in her ear, “And I have not left you.”

“No, you haven't.” She cupped his cheek in her hand and leaned in to kiss him. It was gentle, with none of their usual fire or passion. It wouldn't take much to turn it that way, she knew, but she wanted sweet more than spice. “Ar lath ma, vhenan.”

“That is my line,” he replied with a hint of a smile in the corners of his mouth.

“I can say it too.”

“Yes, you can.” He held her tight for another long moment, then pushed her back so they could stand up. He groaned a bit and she giggled at him.

“Getting too old to sit on the ground like that, Fen'Harel?”

He grabbed around her waist and swung her through the air to the tune of her squawking. “Keep your quickling opinions on my age to yourself, Dalish.”

“I'm not Dalish,” she managed, still laughing at him. They came to a stop in each other's arms and she looped hers around his neck. “But I am yours.”

“And I am yours.” He bent down and kissed her again, and this time there was heat under the sweetness. A promise. It was a long time before they broke from each other to breathe, and even then he merely rested his brow on hers. “We should get back. The others will worry.”

“Probably. I miss fast travel game mechanics. Eluvians are nice, and pretty close for cutting down travel time, but it's not the same.”

He snorted and took her hand once more to lead her through the tunnel. “I enjoy walking with you. It is rare to get you all to myself.”

“Okay, that's fair.” On the way past the wolf statue she stopped again and looked up at the clear sky above. The stars were just starting to come out. Solas was watching her, his face serene and happy. “Thank you, ma fen.”

“For what?”

“Better memories.”

He leaned over and kissed her again. “I will do my best to give you a lifetime of them. And that is no small promise.”

“I'll hold you to that,” she whispered. He gave her a lopsided smile and pulled on her hand to get them moving again. It was going to be another long walk in the dark, after all.


	8. Being Silly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/9/21
> 
> Carly, Solas and Felassan

Cabot had found her a nice quiet alcove – in fact, it was the one that Bull and the Chargers used to occupy. She hung the circular board just above her eyeline, made sure it was straight and then paced backwards until she reached the proper distance from it. With a bit of chalk, she scrawled a line on the plank floor.

Felassan leaned on the underside of the stairs and watched her. “What in Mythal's mercy are you doing?”

“Regulation height and distance,” she announced with a grin.

“For?”

“Darts.” He raised an eyebrow at her and she laughed. “You know, it surprises me that you venerable types don't have this. It's such a game of precision. Seems like it would appeal to all you control freaks.”

“Excuse me?” Felassan asked, vaguely aghast. Carly laughed again.

“You sound like Solas.”

Felassan swiveled in place to aim a light-hearted stare at the elf in question. “Who do you think I learned it from?”

Carly turned to look at Solas too, who was regarding them from his chair against the wall with raised eyebrows. She crossed to him and lifted a trio of feathered darts that Bull had found for her from the table next to him. It was odd to think that in the Qun this game was known, but hardly anywhere else. She went back to her line, made sure her toes were behind it, and held up her first dart. Felassan and Solas both watched her release the bolt across the distance where it sank into the board solidly in the 17.

“Ah, I see. We did actually have a similar game,” Felassan said. Solas made a confirming sound. When Carly peered over her shoulder at him, however, he looked more mischievous than seemed warranted for such an agreement.

“Okay, what am I missing from the Elvhen version of darts?” she asked.

“Drinks,” Felassan supplied succinctly.

“Oh, well, that's actually kinda par for the course.” Felassan looked at her blankly. “Right, Earth idiom. I mean that we play it that way too. I just wanted to make sure I still remembered how to do this first before adding booze to the mix.”

She shot her second dart and it landed in the lower part of the 3. She made a face and Felassan chuckled. She threw the last one and it sank into the wall below the board. She stamped her foot and swore.

“Your aim is a little...low.”

“Yeah well, I didn't used to be this short.”

“Did you shrink?”

“Fucking Dalish body models,” she muttered, marching to the board and pulling the darts. She heard Solas snort behind her. Mock glaring at him, she offered the feathered bolts. “Fine, Fen'Harel, let me see you do it.” He stood up to take them from her and she pulled her hand back. “No cheating and using magic.”

“You wound me, vhenan, to think I would sink so low.”

“Uh huh.”

He smiled down at her and took the darts, then went to stand behind her chalk line. She sat down in his chair and leaned over to see him. As in so many other things he did, he was a perfectionist, and the first dart sank into the exact center of the bullseye. As did the second. The third one however, couldn't sneak between the other two and bounced out. It was her turn to snort. He pulled the darts from where he stood, giving her side eye to see if she'd call him out on _that_ magic use, then handed the darts to Felassan. She was shaking her head at him when he came over to her side.

“I've set myself up for a world of trouble, haven't I?”

“Quite possibly.” He leaned over and kissed her nose. “Ale or wine?”

“Pfft, lightweight. Whiskey or go home.”

As Solas sauntered around the stairs towards the bar, Felassan called out, “She's my kind of woman, Fen'Harel. Watch yourself.”

“She would break you in half, falon.”

“Or you would?” Felassan laughed as Solas returned with a whole bottle and several glasses.

“She has no need for me to fight her battles for her,” he said mildly, and poured a healthy shot into each glass before handing her one. “Now shoot, Felassan. You're living up to your name.”

Carly choked on her sip and ended up coughing while she laughed. She missed Felassan's first shot, but she heard it land solidly into the board. When she peeked around Solas, she saw that it had ended up in the 20, right at the top. His second one landed to the side in the 13. But his last shot slid solidly into the bullseye. He also pulled the darts with a wave of his hand and placed them in hers. Then he took up his glass and drank.

Carly went up to the line and deliberately aimed higher. This time she landed her first dart in the 4, a respectably better shot at the top of the board. It wouldn't count much towards any game played for points, but this was just practice anyway. Her second and third shots landed in the 20 and she smirked at the two men.

“Well done, vhenan,” Solas praised and handed her back her glass. He hadn't touched his own, she noticed, and wondered if he was waiting until after his turn or if he would simply abstain because he usually did.

He pulled the darts and in quick succession landed three more bullseyes. Felassan groaned and Carly giggled as he came back to the table and lifted his glass. He took a small sip, and his eyes were merrier than she'd seen them in a long time.

“I think perhaps I should never play against you, ma fen.”

“Perhaps not. I make an excellent partner, however.”

“In more ways than one, my love.” She downed her glass and he poured her another one. She watched Felassan shoot a tidy trio of respectable shots and then took the darts from his hand. “Pity we don't have a fourth.”

“There's Abelas, isn't there?” Felassan pointed out.

Solas scoffed. “He takes the game too seriously.”

“What a shocker,” Carly commented. “I think if we were going to get teams together, we'd need more darts. These will get dull soon enough as it is.”

“Carly,” Felassan drawled, waiting until she was done and could look at him. He pointed between himself and Solas. “Magic.”

She scowled at him, but then laughed. “Fine, yes, I forget. You all use magic as easy as breathing. Some of us lowly mortals do not.”

“You are not mortal, vhenan.”

She stuck her tongue out at him. “You know what I mean.”

Solas took his position again and she barely paid attention to his score, she was too busy watching him. As always he held perfect control, and his stance was distracting to say the least.

“You know what?” she said to the pair of them. “I think I'll just sit this out and let the two of you have at it. Go wild.”

“Did she just give us permission to one up each other?” Felassan asked. It was already well known between them that their constant competitive antics drove her crazy. But she figured in this one instance she could take it, just to see how far they'd go.

“I did,” she said, burying her nose in her whiskey glass. “You two have fun, I'll drink.”

“Save some for me,” Felassan said.

“I will.” She waved her hand at them. “Go on. Show me what you can do.”

Over the course of the rest of the bottle, she watched Solas throw perfect bullseyes over his shoulder without looking, Felassan balancing upside down on one hand and still managing to hit the board, Solas ricocheting the darts off the walls and Felassan shooting all three at once for a perfect triple 20. She had nearly collapsed off the chair she was laughing so hard and knew without a doubt that she'd had too much whiskey.

They had gathered a crowd as well. Elven faces gathered near the stairs to watch, staying clear of the firing range and cheering as each took his turn. It was late before it ended and the whiskey was long gone. Felassan gave her a final smirking grin before he bowed over her gallantly, then took himself off to wherever it was he slept. Solas offered her a hand up and she was grateful considering how loose her legs felt.

“Been a long time since we had that much fun.”

“In the company of others,” he said by way of agreement.

“We should do this again.”

“Yes. Perhaps without whiskey.”

“Nah, that was the best part. For me anyway. Compared to you two I can't shoot for shit.”

“We have several thousands of years of practice on you, vhenan.”

“That's true.” They left the tavern and she looked up into the night sky, watching the stars spin around her in her drunkenness. “That should give me some sort of handicap, right?”

“We will find you a stool upon which to stand, to overcome your diminutive size.”

He was grinning at her even before she shrieked and chased him up the stairs to the keep. “Oh, you'll pay for that, Fen'Harel!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A quick note about timelines. I've tried to leave these somewhat vague so that they could conceivably happen at any time during the latter half of Twist. Obviously, if Felassan is at Skyhold, this prompt happens nearly at the end of the fic. He'll have a couple more prompts to his name, but I'm holding them back until the appropriate chapters of Twist are posted, for spoiler reasons.


	9. Caught In the Rain**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/10/21
> 
> *NSFW*
> 
> Beware of Wolf - he bites
> 
> Carly and Solas...obviously

It rained on the Storm Coast. That's what it did. Steady, constant, occasionally driving.

It was just such a sudden downpour that caught Carly and Solas out in the open between the river and camp. Solas bustled her into a cave and once they made sure it was clear of spiders or deepstalkers, they stood together at the mouth of it and watched it rain. She was soaked through and shivering, so he wrapped himself around her like a cloak, his body heat permeating her layers of armor.

“Looks like it might last a while,” she said.

“Hmm.”

“I don't even have a set of dry clothes with me. Everything's back at camp.”

“You should perhaps get out of your wet things, just the same,” he said. She looked up over her shoulder at him and made a face.

“And wear what in the meantime? Nothing?”

His eyes gleamed. “I would not be opposed.”

“I'd freeze my ass off,” she laughed.

“I would keep you warm, vhenan,” he murmured into her ear and her shiver this time had nothing to do with the cold. She felt his lips curve as he smiled, and then he stepped back, peeling off the outer layer of his armor to his sweater beneath.

She shrugged out of her soaked leathers to her smalls and gratefully slipped his sweater over her head. It fell on her like a dress, the sleeves too long and the collar open enough that it wanted to slide down her shoulder. But it was warm from his body and it smelled like him and she felt cocooned by it. In the meantime, he took her armored coat and held it up to assess just how wet through it was. His hands glowed a bit and she watched the water roll off in a sheet. It wasn't perfectly dry, but it was better than saturated.

He hadn't bothered to put his own coat back on, and stood there in his breeches and undershirt, his arms bare. She watched the muscles play under his skin as he shook out her prowler coat. The rain didn't matter so much with a view like that. He caught her looking and smirked.

“Yes, vhenan?”

“Just enjoying the view, as always.”

“Shameless, Dalish,” he chided, but he didn't mean it.

“Hey, you're the one who said he'd keep me warm.”

His smirk widened and he lifted his coat to drape around her. He tugged her close by the lapels and she slammed into his chest with her hands braced on him before she could do more than take a breath. “So I did.”

He leaned down and she got on tiptoes and there was no preliminary gentle kiss. It was all fire and teeth and tongues and before too long her arms were around his neck and his fist was in her bedraggled hair. She didn't feel him move them across the cave, but when his back hit the wall she jolted against him. She still had his coat around her and he pulled away from her lips to smirk at her before laying it down on the driest patch of rock he could find. Then he sat on it and invited her to straddle his legs.

His hands were warm on her thighs, smoothing up under his sweater where it hung loose on her petite frame. He drew her close and kissed her again, slower now but every bit as much heat as before. She melted against him, perfectly content to let him do whatever he wanted. His fingers traced along her shoulder blades and down her spine, circling around to cup her breasts, all while still nipping and kissing her lips, jawline and neck.

She finally found some initiative of her own and squeezed her hands between their bodies to the laces of his breeches. He'd already gotten hard under her. She was impatient to have him inside her. He wasn't helping, however. He dragged the sweater down off the ball of her shoulder and nipped her skin, his teeth sharp on her and making her gasp. He chuckled when she swatted at him.

“You can bite me all you want once I get in those pants, ma fen.”

“Ma nuvenin,” he replied, still laughing. She gave up the laces and with a hard stare at him to finish the job himself, she stood up over his legs to take off her smalls. He pulled himself out as she watched, and he was watching her, a faint smirk still on his lips. “Ma isala min?” 

She bit her lip as he gave himself one long stroke. Her legs felt suddenly weak and wobbly and she tilted towards the cave wall, bracing herself so she could still see him. His eyes had turned stormy gray, his pupils blown wide and she panted at the sight of him so unstrung already. She started to lower herself to his lap and his hands flew to her hips, holding her in place.

“Not yet,” he whispered, lifting the edges of his sweater, his thumbs stroking her skin low on her belly. Her inner muscles clenched on nothing and she stifled a groan in the back of her throat. He guided her where he wanted her, lifting her leg just enough so that her knee was on his shoulder. He ran the point of his tongue along her spread open folds, slowly tasting her from opening to clit.

“Solas...” she breathed. “Don't torture me.”

He chuckled against her flesh and she nearly fell down. He held her there with one hand on her hip and the other clamped tightly to her backside and _feasted_ on her, bringing her to climax almost embarrassingly fast. He continued to lap at her while she shouted, her cries echoing in the small cave. She was shuddering with aftershocks before he stopped.

She pushed away from the cave wall forcefully, knowing if she didn't, she wouldn't be able to balance. She sank back to her knees, straddling his thighs, as he nonchalantly wiped his mouth and chin on his arm. His eyes were still hot on her, still that same stormy silver blue she loved so desperately. She wrapped her fingers around his cock and impaled herself on it, sliding down on him slowly enough that the look in his eye changed from heated to wanting.

“Two can play, ma fen, don't ever forget that,” she murmured as she rose and fell so slowly she could feel every inch of him. She had a second's warning – he gave her a devilish grin – and then he lifted his legs under her, spreading them wide so her knees came up off his coat. He slid deeply into her and she couldn't do anything but rock on him.

“Yes, vhenan,” he whispered, tilting her head with his hand back in her hair. “Two can play. But you said I could bite you once you got into my pants. And so I shall.”

His teeth sank into the joint of her neck beneath her ear, his favorite spot. Holding her closer still, he bit harder while he thrust into her and she spasmed on him, her hands flailing out to catch at the cave wall just to ground herself. His free hand pressed against the base of her spine, keeping her full of him. He covered her throat and collarbones with bites, again and again, each one punctuated with hard thrusts into her body. She whimpered and moaned as the pleasure mounted again until she was begging him to give her release.

Suddenly he stopped and withdrew from her, ignoring her complaining noise. He lifted her up enough that he could spin her around and dropped her back in his lap without any regard to the mess they were making. He pulled her back until her hips were flush with his and his cock was sliding through her heat, his hands on her ass, putting her right where he wanted her. They both groaned when his cock caught in her folds and sank back into her. The angle was fuller and he was so deep she saw stars with every thrust. He pulled her up against his chest until he could yank the sweater down on both sides, pinning her arms inside it.

“Fuck...Solas...”

He peppered the back of her neck with fresh bites, all the while still pumping into her. Her cries were growing ragged as her throat became hoarse. It wasn't often she that she could be as loud as she wanted. They lived in a fortress surrounded by hundreds of people, after all. Solas seemed to revel in it, driving deeper into her, biting her harder, his hands holding her steady and supported as she fell to pieces around him.

“Rosa'da'din sul ma,” he demanded, feeling her tighten on him. And she did, collapsing into his arms as the crest of her orgasm raced through her, near blinding. He followed her, going so deep within her that she could feel the spasms. 

He pulled up his sweater over her shoulders and she could feel one or two places where his teeth had broken skin. She snickered weakly as he rearranged her legs so she was seated in his lap rather than straddling it.

“I might need some healing after that, ma fen. Unless you want the others to see what you've done to my neck.”

He tugged on the collar of the sweater and looked and when she turned her head to face him, he looked sheepish. “Ah, forgive me.”

“Nope, I won't. That was fantastic. I just don't know how much you want the others to know.”

Now he was smirking. His hand passed over her throat and the upper part of her shoulders, but she noticed he left the back of her neck alone. She arched an eyebrow at him. _Oh really, my love?_

He grinned and finished the healing wave of magic. Together they looked out the mouth of the cave and saw the rain had let up. Carly huffed but made no move to get up. Camp could wait.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ma isala min? - You want this?  
> Rosa'da'din sul ma - Come for me (a genteel way of saying it - 'endure a little death')  
> Courtesy of Fenxshiral's Project Elvhen


	10. Heart-Eyes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/11/21
> 
> Ava and Cullen, with most everyone else.

When Ava had agreed to deliver a message from King Alistair to the new stronghold of the Inquisition, she'd had no idea of how much it would change her life. Of course, there were several people within the organization she was already familiar with – Leliana, many of her scouts, and of course, Commander Rutherford. It was the spymaster who'd offered her a position permanently. Liaison between the Inquisition and the Fereldan rulers. Ava had jumped at the chance.

And now she was here, sitting in the cozy warmth of the Herald's Rest, watching said spymaster's eyes light up from within as Ambassador Montilyet displayed a large tray of tiny Orlesian cakes before her. Cheers went up from the gathered companions of the Inquisitor, who stood by beaming as well. Leliana was leaving them to become Divine, and this was her farewell party.

Ava observed the party from her corner, not exactly outside its inclusion, since many stopped by to chat with her and share stories of the Nightingale's antics over the years. But she was also content to people watch, as was part of her job.

She saw the Inquisitor and her consort exchange knowing smiles as the woman loaded up a plate of cakes for him. The love between them was so evident that, even without them touching, the whole room could see it. The ancient elf smiled down at his partner, and his eyes were soft in a way that belied the awesome and terrifying power everyone knew he commanded. The Dread Wolf in their midst. Ava didn't know many elven tales, but after months with the Inquisition, she knew that one.

At another table, she saw the Qunari, Iron Bull. He lounged in a chair, telling some wild story complete with broad gesticulations with his free hand while the other held an enormous stein. The others around him were laughing and when they parted for a moment, she saw the Tevinter mage sitting next to him, laughing with the rest. The pair's eyes met for a moment and a flash of deep understanding and _want_ passed between them. She'd known, of course. It was part of her job to know who was up to what for her reports. What she hadn't known before this moment was how genuine it was. It nearly took her breath away. A Tal-Vashoth and a man destined to become a Magister. Who would have thought such a thing could exist so easily in this world?

The bard Maryden began to play some lively tune, and people began to clear away the center of the tavern to dance. While she played, her gaze traveled the room, coming to rest on the soft spoken Lieutenant of the Chargers, Krem. He was smiling at her from behind the rim of a bottle of ale, his eyes never leaving her face. Well, that was new. Ava made a mental note of it, but knew it wasn't something she needed to add for her reports. It was just nice to see.

There was a scuffle and Ava caught sight of the lanky archer Sera trying to pull her hands away from a dwarf. They were both laughing and finally Sera gave in, letting Dagna twirl her around the floor, completely out of time with the rhythm of the music. It was obvious neither cared. They were in their own world. It appeared to be one of jokes, pranks and happiness. Ava laughed with everyone else as the pair made a flourishing exaggerated bow and hurried back to their table, giggling.

There was a shout of “We can't let them outshine us, darling!” and Ava watched the Champion of Kirkwall drag the equally as famous Varric Tethras into the square of dancing space. The dwarf grumbled and swore loudly, protesting that he wasn't going to dance with her, and then he did just that. Maryden was playing something slower now. As the mismatched pair swung around the floor, their feet in time and their hands clasped, Ava saw the look on Varric's face. No matter his complaining, he would do anything for Hawke. Anything at all. Including dance, it seemed.

From her periphery, Ava saw the door of the tavern open and the broad shoulders and dark uniform of the Commander come in. He headed directly to the table where Leliana was holding court and he took one of the frilly cakes with a blush on his cheeks as he passed on his final words to her as an advisor. Then he scanned the room until he saw her. She felt a thrill lift her chest and watched his eyes soften when they found her. He crossed the tavern, the little Orlesian cake still in his hand, utterly forgotten. She realized she was grinning at him like some lovesick fool. But he didn't seem to mind.

“I'm sorry I'm late. There was so much _paperwork_...”

Ava took his hand and continued to smile up at him from her seat. He stopped rambling and just looked at her for a moment. The lines on his face relaxed and he smiled warmly and his gaze never left hers for a second. He lifted her hand in his and pressed a kiss to it. She tugged him down so he sat next to her.

“It's all right,” she said. “You're here now.”


	11. Take Them Dancing**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/12/21
> 
> *NSFW*
> 
> Varric and Hawke, takes places directly after Heart-Eyes.

Varric watched Hawke swinging Carly around in the center of the Herald's Rest, the pair of them laughing uproariously as Maryden played a jig. With unspoken agreement, they clasped hands and began to spin each other simultaneously, ducking under their joined hands again and again. They twirled and stamped their feet and were still laughing. It was entertaining to watch. And Varric noticed he wasn't the only one doing so. He sidled across the tavern to stand at Solas's elbow.

“So, Chuckles, is it just that we have too much dignity for them or they have too little?”

The elf looked down at him, pure amusement all over his face. And wasn't that just as riveting to see as watching their respective partners dance?

“I believe 'both' would be an accurate description.” He turned back to the dancers, now gasping for air against each other and the bar. “There is also physical limitation to be considered, I suppose.”

Varric snorted. “Why, because I'm so short and Peaches is so short compared to you?”

Solas smirked at him. “Yes.”

“Stinger and I dance just fine together.” Maker's balls, why did he just say that out loud to _Solas_?

But the elf was still smirking, and still watching Carly, his gaze turning hungry. “I would be inclined to agree with that assessment. The Inquisitor and I find no difficulty either.”

“Chuckles, only you could make dubious innuendo sound pedantic.”

“It is a gift.”

“It's something, all right.”

They were saved from further weird bantering as the women joined them with fresh drinks and flushed faces. Carly curled under Solas's arm and rested her head against his chest and for a moment, Varric was envious of that simple intimacy. It didn't normally bother him, the fact that he was a dwarf and Hawke was a human and towered over him. If there was ever going to be leaning on each other like that, it would be him doing the leaning. But in nearly ten years, it hadn't happened yet.

Hawke caught his eye and gave him a private smile, as if she knew what he was thinking. Confounded woman probably did. She was clever, his Stinger.

“C'mon, darling, I think it's time we took ourselves off for the evening,” she said, draining her ale in a gulp and reaching for his hand.

Maryden was playing something else lively and the tavern floor was filling up again with dancers. This wasn't the normal kind of night in the Rest, although Varric wasn't complaining. They were seeing off Leliana to her new elevation as Divine. It had been Carly's idea to throw a raucous, no holds barred party in the tavern as a send off. He had to admit, it was inspired. Leliana looked as happy as he'd ever seen her, and all around them the Inquisition's inner circle were relaxed and enjoying themselves. He gave a last look at Carly and Solas, already lost in their own world that revolved solely around each other and smiled up at Hawke, ready to be equally as lost with her.

“Had enough dancing?”

“On my feet at any rate,” Hawke quipped with a grin. He grinned back. Maker, he loved her.

Outside the tavern the air was chilly and he shivered, but Hawke threw back her head and flung out her arms and breathed it in deep. She'd lived in Kirkwall long enough to be accustomed to warmer weather, but she missed Ferelden, he knew. She missed the bite of cold air and snow. Times like this he could put aside his own misgivings about the outdoors and simply enjoy her enjoyment of it.

The music coming out of the tavern followed them into the keep, although once they were inside the stone walls, it was muffled to a point of silence. The corridors were empty since most folks were still in the Rest. He and Hawke stumbled their way to their chambers, a well appointed suite Carly had given him before Hawke had even arrived. He remembered asking her why he got so much space and she had just given him a canny look and told him, “Reasons.” He shook his head at the memory. She'd known of – or at least suspected – his attachment to Hawke even then.

The door was barely closed behind him before Hawke began stripping off her sweaty clothes. Her skin gleamed in the firelight from the hearth and he leaned back against the door to watch her sashay around the room, still idly dancing to some tune in her head. Her skin was a roadmap of scars, and he knew the name of each one. It was strange to think about, how long they'd been together, how much they'd _done_ together. He was still in awe of her love for him.

“You're staring, darling,” Hawke said, finally collapsing onto the edge of the bed.

“I like watching you.”

Her brilliant sapphire eyes looked black in the darkness, and they gleamed with a mix of humor and desire. “So come watch a little closer.”

Well, he couldn't ignore an invitation like that. He crossed the room, kicking off his boots and undoing his belt, tossing it onto the scattering of her clothes. By the time he reached the side of the bed, he was pulling off his shirt to add it to the pile. Hawke bit her lip, taking in his bare chest and broad shoulders, as she always did. It was both amusing and gratifying. They hadn't been kids for a long time, but from the way they looked at each other, one couldn't tell.

Her hands landed on his chest, molding themselves to the contours of his muscles. She'd always like them, even before they were lovers. She leaned in close to kiss him, slanting her head to press deep. Her skin was cool where he touched her and goosebumps rose under his palms as he swept them from her sides to her breasts. He toyed with her with one hand and let the other slip up to cradle her head. She made a breathy little murmur.

He pushed her back onto the bed, following her as she nestled among the pillows. Her long legs were folded loosely around him, her body splayed out for his eyes and hands to trace. He never tired of it. His fingers brushed up the inside of her thigh and she twitched and giggled as it tickled her.

“What kind of dance can I offer my lady?” he asked softly, knowing the gravel in his voice turned her on just as much as his touch.

She reached for him, drawing him deeper into the cradle of her hips, her hands light but persistent. “The kind that leaves me breathless.”

He leaned over her and kissed her. When they were like this, the height difference didn't matter. He kissed her gently, and then not so gently, as he trailed his hand between her legs, his thumb seeking her heat. She gasped as he found her, and bit him when he slid his thumb along her clit towards her opening. He hooked his thumb inside her, spreading the rest of his hand across her abdomen, feeling her muscles tense and clench. And still he kissed her, sipping up her moans and pants.

“Darling...please...” she begged. He pulled back his thumb, coated in her slick, and spread it around her sensitive nub. Her hand reached down between them and wrapped around his cock, making it jump at her touch. She was already so far gone she didn't even smirk at him. She just stroked him until he was hard and pulsing and desperate for her. “Now, Varric...”

He tilted his hips and she guided him and they sealed together in the perfect fit they'd both been shocked to discover they had all those years ago. He pumped into her slowly, taking his time, still circling her clit with his thumb. Braced over her on his other hand, he watched her unravel. Her head was thrown back and her eyes were closed and her lips begged and begged. She grew tighter around him and her little murmurs began to break as she spiraled towards release.

Varric would be the first to say he wasn't a poet, but watching her fall apart in his hands, he could admit he was tempted. He leaned over her again, nipping a line of kisses from her jaw to her ear, feeling her breath hot on his face. “Come for me, Marian.”

With a cry, she did, convulsing and holding him tight. He pulled his hand away and licked his thumb clean while she watched, her eyes wide and still pleading. He grinned at her and lifted her leg around him, hitching it higher so he could get deeper. And he thrust harder into her, the way she liked it after she came. Her own arms were thrown over her head, pushing against the headboard to give herself leverage to meet his every jolting stroke. She bit her lip and lifted her hips and pulsed all around him and he groaned as he emptied himself into her.

He leaned on his elbows and brushed her short spiky hair out of her face, feeling her legs go slack around his hips as they came down from the high. “How was that dance?”

“It was perfect,” she breathed. “Let's do it again.”

He smiled and ducked down to kiss her once more. “You're so happy I'm a dwarf, aren't you?”

“Oh yes,” she grinned. Her arms went around him, slippery with sweat but still strong. “Oh yes.”


	12. PDA's

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/13/21
> 
> Abelas, watching Carly and Solas

The changes in the world were inescapable to Abelas. In every breath he could taste them. His magic was muted, he was surrounded by mortals and he no longer knew his place when there was no need for a guardian to a goddess millennia dead who still roamed the earth as a spark inside a human host. And yet...

Yet, some things were familiar.

He had taken for himself a small corner of Tarasyl'an Tel'as on the upper level of the stable. The whickers and snuffles of the mounts below was a soothing sound, reminding him of better days. And the vantage point was good to see the comings and goings in the great fortress. He could watch his Sentinels train. He could see the merchants haggle with the residents. He could see Fen'Harel and his consort walk across the battlements, hand in hand and comfortably silent.

Of all the things Abelas had seen since waking from his most recent uthenera to a world diminished and broken, seeing Mythal's former General so content was arguably the best.

He watched them now, side by side in the garden. Fen'Harel was reading, aloud it seemed, and Da'Fen was curled into his side, their fingers entwined until he needed to turn the page. It was the sort of thing Abelas had seen countless lovers do over the course of his long life. He had once done it himself, in another era, under another name. The pang of that loss was softer after all this time, but it still stung nonetheless.

Regardless of his own experiences, he could not remember a time when he ever saw the Dread Wolf engage in such an act, in public, no less. Abelas found himself unable to look away from the pair. They were oblivious to everything around them, seeing nothing but each other. A peaceful feeling spread through his limbs, quieting his thoughts and slowing his heart to a steady pace of comfort and ease. Many beautiful things had been lost with the fall of the People. But not this one.

A harried looking messenger appeared in the garden, scanning the faces until she saw the pair on their bench. She approached cautiously and stood by to deliver her message and wait for a reply. Abelas watched Da'Fen sigh, withdrawing her fingers from Fen'Harel's grasp and standing up. She said something to the messenger, who dashed off. Da'Fen leaned over her lover and whispered something in his ear. Even from where he stood, Abelas saw him flush red and hid a smile to himself. Da'Fen had a cunning wit and a bawdy sense of humor. It was one of the things he liked best about her aside from her obvious ability to lead. It was apparent that Fen'Harel had no defense against her and was completely at her mercy.

And then he saw something he never dared to think he would.

Fen'Harel tipped up his chin, his fingers on Da'Fen's jaw, and he kissed her. The kiss lingered, never ostentatious or vulgar. But it was _true_.

Da'Fen finally pulled away from him, and she was smiling as she crossed the garden towards the keep. Fen'Harel watched her go.

And Abelas realized he had tears on his cheeks.


	13. Comfort After a Rough Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/14/21
> 
> Ava and Cullen

Ava slipped into the small room she shared with Cullen while they waited. The Grand Cathedral was an imposing place, she'd admit it. But inside it seemed no different than any other keep or stronghold, a warren of corridors, little rooms and secrets. The fact that it was a working Chantry, as well as the home of the Divine, seemed to make little difference to that.

“So that's it then,” Cullen said when she'd closed the door. “You know, I've spent years of my life watching that woman take off like a whirlwind while I sit back and wait. You'd think I'd be used to it by now. She's as bad as the Champion.”

 _That woman_ , Ava knew, was Inquisitor Lavellan. Precious few people seemed to know anything about her other than she was an elf, had managed to capture the interest and then heart of an immensely powerful mage and of course, that she'd saved the world. To hear Cullen speak of her in such a frustrated and almost disparaging way was entertaining.

“She'll be fine, she always is,” Ava offered.

Cullen sighed and rubbed his temples. Ava knew he still suffered headaches, and their current circumstances were enough to give anybody one. She crossed the room to stand behind him and gently pushed away his fingers to massage his head herself. He began to relax under her fingers and she worked her way from his temples to his neck, tugging away the massive coat he always wore over his armor.

“There's nothing more we can do today,” she said.

“Not for her, perhaps. But there are plenty of other things _I_ could be doing.”

“Cullen...just take a moment and rest. You're no good to anyone if you're exhausted.”

“But...”

“But me no buts, Commander. She is not a recruit, and she is in good company among those Sentinels. If she is as incorrigible as the Champion, then remember that Hawke also defeated the Qunari.”

Cullen leaned back and aimed a sardonic look at her. “And nearly died doing so. We can't afford to lose the Inquisitor.”

Ava laid a hand on his shoulder, keeping her expression firm. Maker, when he got like this he was worse than a Mabari with a bone. “Yes, Hawke faced the Arishok in single combat and paid dearly for it. But the Inquisitor is facing this invasion with an _army_. It's not the same.”

“You sound like Cassandra.”

Ava raised an eyebrow at him until he looked sheepish. Then she relented and leaned over to kiss his brow. “I think that was a compliment, dear.”

“Ahh, forgive me love. I'm just...”

“Worried, taking on all the troubles of your command as usual and left behind while the fighting is happening?”

Cullen nodded. “Something like that.”

“From what I understand of the Inquisitor's plans, she has things well in hand. Now, get out of this armor.”

For a moment he looked like he was going to argue with her, and then he inexplicably blushed. Well, not inexplicably. He was entirely too easy to read sometimes. And he was still as shy as he had been the first time she'd taken him by the hand and led him away from duty to bed. She moved away from where he was slumped at the table and started getting ready for bed herself.

“Have you eaten?”

“Yes, Divine Victoria made sure something was brought in for us at the war table.”

“Hmph. That doesn't follow that you actually ate anything,” she said. He scowled at her until he saw that she was teasing, then he looked sheepish again. Honestly, it was becoming a common expression on him.

“I ate, you ruthless woman.” He tackled her suddenly, making her laugh as they hit the bed in a tangle of arms and legs.

“Good. Now come here.” He slid into her arms and let her hold him close, his ear on her heartbeat. “Just rest, dear.”

He let out a heavy sigh and wrapped his arms around her. “All right, love. Thank you.”

“Of course. I'll always be here for you.”

“I 'ppreciate it,” he mumbled, half asleep already.

Ava hummed a lullaby her aunt used to sing when she was small, and ran her fingers through his hair. It wasn't long before his breathing evened out and his arms went slack. She reached out her arm to snuff the candle on the nightstand and pulled the covers up over them. He never woke, which told her more than he probably wanted her to know about his state of exhaustion. 'A soldier is always on guard' he liked to tell her in defense of his terrible sleeping habits. Well, not if she could help it.

She closed her eyes in the dark and held onto him tightly. And then she slept too.


	14. Pillow Talk

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/15/21
> 
> Carly and Solas

Solas was a heavy sleeper. Carly sometimes felt like that was a 'duh' kind of statement, since he walked the Fade, and in order to do that, he had to be in it. Still, he was heavy enough of a sleeper that when she had nights where she couldn't sleep, her tossing and turning didn't disturb him.

Tonight, however, it must have. She hadn't even been doing that much shifting around in their bed. But he rolled towards her, his chest warm on her back and his arm sliding around her to hold her tight.

“What's on your mind, vhenan, that's keeping you from dreaming?” His voice held that low rasp he got when he'd just woken up, and normally it would give her the shivers. Tonight she simply burrowed into his embrace and sighed.

“Just...stuff.”

“Tell me.”

“I...I don't know if I want immortality.”

He was silent a long time, his hand retreating from around her waist to trail up and down her arm, staying away from the sensitive stump of it. Now that she'd said the words, she felt both more anxious and somehow relieved. It was out there now, her fear.

“I will not extol the virtues of having endless time to you,” he said at last. “It led to stagnation among the People, and I am not so blind that I did not see it. I have known no other way of being, however. I look upon mortality as...”

He stopped, and she could feel his uncertainty to say what he was thinking. It made her smile a little. He didn't want to insult her, of course, and say that death was unnatural. That it was an affront to the People and one of his failings that he had cursed them with it when he made the Veil. But that was essentially where he was headed.

“It's all right, ma fen. I get where you're coming from.” She rolled over in his arms so she could see his face. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were dark and intense on hers when they met. She cupped his jaw in her hand and smiled again so he could see it. “But I lived most of my life as human, and therefore mortal. And to mortals, death is inevitable and the natural end to a life lived to its fullest. Or at least, it's supposed to be. One shouldn't have regrets or doubts. I mean, I know lots of people who do, so I know that's not how it really works. But that's not what I'm actually worrying about.”

“What is it then?”

“It just sounds so... _boring_. To live forever. After a while, you don't see anything new. There's nothing left to learn. To experience. It sounds depressing.”

He chuckled at her peevish tone and for a moment it broke through her mood and made her grin at him. He took her fingers and brought them to his lips to place kisses on each knuckle. “You are not wrong,” he seemed forced to admit. “But that is why so many went into uthenera. To escape the banality of waking life for one of dreams, where anything is possible. I am certain there will come a time when you and I both will wish to lay down our burdens and escape into the Fade forever.”

“I'm glad I won't ever leave you,” she said softly, snuggling closer still, feeling his heart beat beneath her ear. It was an awkward position while they lay on their sides and she didn't stay there long. “But, as much as I love you, that can't be the only reason I stick around.”

“Nor should it be. There is more to our lives than merely each other. And while I am certainly glad that I will not lose you to old age and death, I know that it is selfish.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her. “I have never denied being a selfish man.”

“Only sometimes,” she whispered, still feeling the light press of his lips on hers. “And I don't usually complain when it means so much of your attention.”

He smirked. “Now you are just trying to distract me.”

“And myself,” she pointed out. “Is it working?”

He kissed her again and pulled her so close she ended up throwing her leg over his. His hands trailed up and down her spine, coming to rest on the curve of her backside while his smirk turned wolfish. “What do you think?”

Carly looped her arms around his neck and hitched herself higher on his hip, pressing herself flush to him. “I think we can find some more distractions if we look hard enough.”

“Ma nuvenin, vhenan.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This came out less fluffy than I wanted. But it's where the muse went.


	15. Laughing Together**(ish)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/16/21
> 
> This is not exactly NSFW, but it's post-NSFW, with references to rope bondage.
> 
> Dorian and Iron Bull

It was horribly embarrassing, really. Trussed up like a Feastday roast, so out of his mind that he couldn't even think straight – hah, as if he ever had – and utterly, utterly spent. If Dorian had the wherewithal, he would be blushing crimson and would have run away already. Probably all the way back to Tevinter. A mildly ghastly thought in and of itself.

Of course, being trussed up like a Feastday roast, he wasn't running anywhere.

And he was already blushing crimson because Bull had...he'd...well.

Dorian watched the fire creep up the curtains in an almost lazy way, his eyes following the flames while his brain rattled around like a marble. He probably should be doing something to stop the fire from spreading, but he wasn't sure what he could do right now that wouldn't make it worse. Belatedly, Bull noticed the flames and snorted. He let go of the ropes and Dorian slumped onto the bed in a heap of well oiled and well used limbs. Bull was working his way up to a good belly laugh as he crossed the room shamelessly naked and yanked the offending curtains down to toss into the fireplace. They smoldered there for a minute before simply going out in a plume of smoke.

Dorian just lay on the bed, feeling pins and needles in his hands.

And Bull kept laughing.

“It's not that funny,” Dorian snapped. Well, he tried to. What came out sounded more like a whine.

“Oh, it really is,” Bull replied, still chortling. The knots loosened further as Bull started pulling the ropes away. Dorian just let him, still fuming. But, less so now. He was getting over his sense of embarrassment. _He_ knew he wasn't some youth with no control. Bull was just...he was...

A snort escaped him.

The Iron Bull was the best lover he'd ever had, and apparently was able to make him lose enough control that he _set the curtains on fire_.

A high pitched giggle escaped him now.

“You all right there, Dorian?”

Dorian wheezed. “I'm fine, yes.”

Bull reclined on the bed, stretching his legs out and watching Dorian begin to truly laugh. Bull was still smiling and it only grew as Dorian began to roll around with mirth. He managed to end up facing the Qunari and he crawled close enough to drape across him, still shaking with giggles and snorts.

“All right, maybe it was funny.”

Bull's big hand clamped on the back of his head and Dorian closed his eyes briefly, reveling in it. “Yeah, it was.”

They looked at each other for a moment and then both started guffawing. They laughed until their sides hurt and their breath came short and gasping. When they finally settled down again, Dorian was starting to feel sleepy and he curled up on Bull rather like a cat. He didn't seem to mind and cradled Dorian in his arms like he was precious. It was peaceful, which seemed like it should be an odd thing to feel after all that. But...there it was. He felt cherished and safe in the arms of a Qunari spy. Whatever was the world coming to?

He didn't care anymore. He was happy and he wasn't afraid to show it anymore.

A gentle kind of quiet had settled around them, and then Bull asked, “So...what do you think, kadan? Think you could set the other ones on fire too?”

Dorian tipped up his head to look at Bull, meeting the challenge in his eye. “Only if you do it just right.”

Bull's smile turned crafty and Dorian felt a thrill go down his spine. “I'll give it some thought.”

“You do that, amatus,” he replied, yawning into his hand. Yes, fine, he'd admit it.

It really was _that_ funny.


	16. Banter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/17/21
> 
> Introducing the final 'couple' - Felassan and Revanas.

The trip should have been boring. He had expected it would be. That said, the fact that it wasn't was not a disappointment.

First it had been the ride down the mountain pass from Tarasyl'an Tel'as. Nothing extravagant, to be sure, but still bracing. The horses were sure footed enough, but it was Kingsway by the common calendar, and ice and snow already graced the Frostbacks. It wasn't until they reached the lowlands that it warmed up again and the dazzling blossom of autumn could be seen. Felassan gloried in the riot of colors, feeling his eyes prick with tears at the sight, grateful to be able to enjoy the simple act of pleasure in it again.

Of course, then they were immediately set upon by a bear as they rode into the Emerald Graves. Felassan had watched his companion as they fought it. Revenas was calm and controlled. Her magic was strong and her aim with her bow even stronger. Now she was skinning the beast as he helped, tugging back the hide as she made expertly laid slices. He was aware of the discomforting irony. This woman could easily skin him too.

“You helped with Da'Fen's prosthetic, did you not?” he asked at some random point, for some random reason he didn't care to examine too closely. His companion was often silent, and while Felassan was no stranger to silence, he enjoyed conversation more. Now that he was no longer Tranquil, he no longer fought against any urge to fill such silences as he would have once done.

She looked up and met his eyes. Hers were a light gold color, reminiscent of many Arlathani elves he'd known in another life. Mythal's vallaslin stood out on her cheeks in lyrium blue. The All-Mother's branching marks lined his own brow as well. But he didn't expect that to be some sort of common ground for them. They had had very different lives that only conjoined because of one man. Felassan was certain she knew that too.

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“It was needful.”

“That's all?”

Revanas sat back on her haunches and appraised him for a long moment. When she spoke, her tone was different. “Da'Fen brings hope. She has suffered for it. I would see it eased.”

“It's that simple for you?”

“Of course.” Revanas went back to her work and before long they had the whole beast skinned. She then went about quartering the meat. They weren't too far from an Inquisition camp, she had told him, and they would drop off the bear and the hide there so it wouldn't go to waste.

He thought that would be the end of it, but that night, sitting around a small fire in a tidily warded camp, she spoke again.

“I met her before, in the Temple. She came with the Inquisition and Fen'Harel, to protect it from this Corypheus. She was so...small. So powerless compared to what I know. But she walked fearlessly at his side, she was teasing him, even. I could see her love for him shine like the purest light. We Sentinels knew little of this world, other than the mortality and frailty of our descendants. Too many have pride in the wrong things, and ignorance of the rest. She was not like that. In the end, she invited us to join them, to have a new home and purpose.”

“She is his match,” Felassan said, turning their roasting dinner on its spit.

“She has changed him,” Revanas countered. “Shifted his purpose.”

“And that is not a bad thing. He would have burned down the new to make way to restore the old. That would not necessarily have been an improvement.”

“They call you the Betrayer, you know,” she said suddenly. He looked across the fire at her sharply, but saw no judgment in her gaze.

“They have called him that too.” _Harellan_. A once innocuous word now twisted to revulsion. And yet, Fen'Harel had taken it back, donned it as craftily as armor so that it had no power over him. Felassan still admired his leader, even after everything. “And I did betray him. Da'Fen is the only reason he forgave me for it.”

“You had reason, it appears.” She was referencing the fact that he'd thought the people of this world were _real_ , and therefore deserved a chance. He knew many of his fellow Elvhen did not share that view, but it seemed perhaps Revanas did. She said nothing more, but accepted her portion of dinner with a nod.

They reached the Imperial Highway before they spoke more about their leaders. They'd ridden hard through Emprise du Lion, skirting around both Orlesian troops and Inquisition scouts. Now they were following the narrow edges of the Waking Sea as the road curved north. Val Royeaux was only another day away.

“Eluvian would have been faster,” Revanas complained as they stopped for a bite to eat and to rest the stalwart ponies. “Why couldn't we have done the entire journey that way?”

Felassan looked around. This particular spot was a bit marshy and bland compared to other regions. But it held its own kind of stark beauty. He missed travel by Eluvian for its convenience and security, but he enjoyed being on the open road just as much. Only their departure from Skyhold had been through a mirror, and only took them to the pass, where there was an exit from the Crossroads.

“Because I do not hold any of the passkeys. But you are seeing with your own eyes what Da'Fen intends to take back. Surely that is worth it?”

“Do you think she will succeed?”

“With Fen'Harel at her back?” he rejoined, raising an eyebrow at her. “Of course. Da'Fen can do anything she puts her mind to with his support.”

“You approve, then?”

“Is that so strange to you?”

Revanas thought about that in silence as they saddled back up and mounted. The steady clop of their horses' hooves on the road was the only sound for miles. Then she said, “Their love is rare.”

“It is. The message should be heeded.”

“That is a fanciful way of saying you're enjoying the romance of it,” she said. And for the first time, he heard a thread of teasing in her voice. He glanced over his shoulder to find her watching him with a calculating look on her face. He grinned.

“I am enjoying it. I have known Fen'Harel for millennia. In all that time, I have never seen him as happy as he is now. We live long lives, Sentinel. We have the time and leisure to experience everything life has to offer. True happiness should be among them.”

“You think it is important.” It wasn't quite a question, but underneath her words it was most definitely a query.

He smirked. There was no way to explain what it was like living Tranquil and then being restored, no matter how harrowing that experience had been. It was worth every uncontrolled bout of emotional upheaval, every misstep in magic use, every tear and frustration. For himself, he was content to be whole again. But on behalf of his friend and leader, to see him _happy_ , Felassan was content to bask in the reflected glow of the love from the small elven woman who'd once been human in another world. “I know it is.”

Revanas spurred her pony to a faster pace, riding past him with a smile on her face. “Good.”


	17. First 'I Love You'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/18/21
> 
> Cullen and Ava

Ava closed the door behind the retreating figure of Cassandra...Inquisitor Pentaghast. She turned and leaned on it, searching Cullen's worried face.

“Maker's Breath,” he murmured. “What does Gaspard really think to accomplish in assaulting Skyhold?”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “What all men of power think they're owed. More power.”

“He won't get it. Not from Lavellan. She's...”

“She's not your problem anymore,” Ava said quietly.

“What? I...I know that.”

“Do you?” She pointed at his desk where he was sitting, already pulling out lists of remaining troops and beginning to organize them. “Cullen, she doesn't need your help now. She has her own army. And the Inquisition is led by the Seeker.”

He frowned for a moment, then it passed and he scrubbed his face with his hands. A rueful smile appeared and he stood up and crossed the little room to her side. “I know that, Ava. I do. Still...I worry for her.”

“I know you do. It's one of the things I love about you.”

He drew back to look at her and she met his eye fearlessly. Neither of them had spoken of it, not like this. She waited to see how he'd react to the admission. Cullen cupped her cheek and a small, gentle smile crossed his lips.

“Is that how it is?”

“Maybe so,” she whispered, playfully retorting. “What are you going to do about it?”

He left her side and swept his desk clear of all his papers, letting them flutter to the floor as he came back to her and snaked his arm around her waist. In one quick move he'd lifted her and plunked her down on the desk. He stood between her legs as her dress caught between them and the look in his eye was almost devilish. He began lifting up bunches of her dress in his hands, getting underneath it to smooth his palms on her legs. His hands were callused and rough and his touch set off a thousand sparks inside her. She tilted up her head to meet his gaze and leaned in so close they were sharing the same breath.

But he didn't kiss her. Not yet. “Tell me again.”

“I love you, Cullen Rutherford.”

He kissed her then, forceful and passionate. She clung to him as he pulled her closer, until she was wrapped around him. There wasn't enough room on the desk for him to lay her back, so he held her up instead, supporting her back with one hand while the other went to the laces on her bodice.

“And I love you,” he murmured against her lips. “I never thought I would love again.”

“Show me,” she entreated, tightening her legs around his waist. He smiled crookedly at her and peeled back her dress. “Show me all the ways you love me.”

He did.


	18. Pet Names

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/19/21
> 
> Carly and Varric

They were careful, always careful, to keep their relationship away from their 'professional' lives. But Carly couldn't resist leaning over Solas in the rotunda and whispering her plans for him later in his ear before she went off on her day. He was equally as careful to never give away just how closely entwined they were too. A holdover from centuries of keeping his loved ones safe from any reprisal by the Evanuris, she presumed. Some habits were hard to break. And some still had merit, considering she was an elven Inquisitor in a human holy war.

Still, that didn't stop either of them from ending their conversation with their favorite names for each other.

“I'll see you later, ma fen,” she murmured. She began to walk towards the door of the Great Hall and his voice floated serenely to her, only breaking at the end with consternation when he realized his own slip up.

“Dareth shiral, vhe...nan.”

He looked consternated too, when she peered over her shoulder at him. She grinned and he relaxed and she went off on her merry way.

Only to be stopped by Varric at the door. “That was adorable.”

Carly raised an eyebrow at his grinning face. “Oh?”

“Yeah. But I have to ask...what do they mean?”

“What do _what_ mean?”

“The cute little pet names.”

Carly had paperwork to do, and the Great Hall was teeming with Orlesian petitioners, dwarven representatives from the Merchant's Guild, various scouts and runners for a number of factions, as well as Inquisition staff. She gestured for Varric to follow her and they went up to her chamber, since it also served as her office. She sat at her desk and Varric managed to lounge in the chair across from her as if he owned it. It was impressive how well he made himself look comfortable and at ease in a world at human scale. She envied him that sometimes.

“Vhenan means 'heart',” she said. Then she thought about it. “Literally it means 'the place of home' or something equally as flowery and poetic. Elvish is a contextual language, very little of it translates directly.”

“I see. And ma fen?”

She grinned at him. “It's an inside joke, and one that _does_ translate directly. It means 'my wolf'.”

“Is that because of the thing he wears?”

“A little. But c'mon, you haven't noticed all the wolves in the mural? He loves wolves. He thinks they're some of the wisest and most admirable creatures alive.” She carefully _didn't_ point out that it was because he was Fen'Harel. No one was supposed to know that yet. She set herself a mental note to be more careful about using her favorite term of endearment where others might hear it.

“Leave it to Chuckles to idolize deadly pack hunters.”

Carly laughed and leaned back in her chair to level an accusing finger at Varric. “And see, you call him Chuckles. And I know that at first that wasn't a very nice nickname for him because he has a tendency to be gloomy as fuck. But ya know, it's grown on him.”

“Hah!” Varric barked. He shook his head. “I bet it has.”

“What was it he said? I'm relieved to know that whatever things I lack you will invent for me?”

“Something like that.” Varric gave her a long look. “So why bring me up here to talk about it?”

“C'mon, you think I need all those poncy nobles hearing about my private life? It's bad enough that you heard it.”

“Yeah well, I don't know if you two know this, but sound carries pretty well in that rotunda. I'd bet gold that Dorian could even hear what you whispered to him.”

“Oh, I doubt it. You realize that elves have superior hearing? When I whisper to him, I'm _really_ whispering.”

“Now you've got me curious.”

“I thought you didn't want mental pictures of what Solas and I get up to alone.”

“You know what? That's a fair point. Forget I asked.”

“Where does Stinger come from?”

“Ugh,” he made a face. “Not my finest moment, I'll admit. She likes it though, refuses to answer to anything else.” Then he sighed and gave Carly a ridiculously forlorn look. “It's because of her daggers. And she's quick on her feet.”

“Like a bee.”

“Exactly.”

“But you couldn't call her honeybee, right?”

“Right. Maker's balls, can you imagine? She would have killed me.”

“You would have enjoyed the death, I'm sure.”

“Probably. She's quite a woman.”

Carly smiled, thinking of Hawke. “Yeah, she is. So, there we are. Our respective partners and our silly little pet names for them. I'm just glad to see the thought process behind them is the same for both our worlds.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiled at her friend a last time before buckling down to work. “It's comforting. Now get out of my hair, Varric. I have work to do.”

“All right, Peaches.”

She mock glared at him for getting in the last word, pointedly so for the topic, but then she chuckled and shooed him off. His grin as he retreated told her he knew _exactly_ what he'd done and knew he'd get away with it too. But she was in a much lighter mood to work, and for that she could thank him.


	19. Mutual Pining/Cooking Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/20/21
> 
> Felassan and Revanas
> 
> It's a two for one special today!

Felassan cleaned the brace of rabbits he'd caught while Revanas worked on washing the wild potatoes she'd found. She tossed him a bundle of fresh herbs too, casually and without speaking. He watched her from the corner of his eye as he worked, thinking both that he was surprised at her woodlore and how composed she seemed in this setting, away from her fellow Sentinels. The firelight glowed in her face, making her look softer and somehow gentle. He knew that was just her outwards appearance; she was a wicked fighter with both weapons and words. But she drew his eye and he didn't bother to stop himself.

The rabbits spitted and covered with the herbs, Felassan slung them across the fire to roast and sat back to watch Revanas. She wrapped the potatoes in broad spindleweed leaves, then tucked them in the coals. He busied himself with cleaning and sharpening his knife and felt her eyes on him, although she didn't speak. He did smile though and she huffed, caught.

For the next hour it went on like that. The fire crackled, their dinner cooked, they stole glances at each other that grew more numerous. It was entertaining to Felassan that they were engaged in this silent dance. Once upon a time there would have been an elaborate set of rules for each of them if they wanted to court. Once, the fact that she was a Sentinel and he was nothing more than a freed slave would have meant they could not have any sort of relationship that wouldn't have been frowned upon by their society. Now the world had changed, again and again, and none of those rules applied any longer.

He was about to say something to that effect when Revanas spoke, derailing his thoughts entirely.

“Do you think she means it? The Empress?”

“That she will meet with Da'Fen under a flag of truce? I do. Celene prefers diplomacy to war, always has.”

“From what I hear, that's never stopped her from disregarding her own subjects' lives in the past.”

“You mean the Purge? Humans are fickle. She felt backed into a corner and lashed out to save face. She's paid the price for it.”

“You seem to know her well.”

“Not _well_. I was closer to her spymaster for many years.”

“Briala, yes? Did I hear that they were lovers as well?”

He nodded. When he looked over at Revanas, he caught the last vestige of some curious expression disappearing behind a neutral facade. She was very like Abelas, he realized. Not that it surprised him, Abelas was her Sentinel commander. Duty took precedence over emotion. But when that duty was laid aside, she was...animated. Fun. He enjoyed her company. He would not turn down a chance to enjoy more of it, and that realization took him by surprise.

He didn't know how well he was able to cover that reaction, but she didn't say anything, just checked their dinner to see how much longer it would take. He moved out of her way and nearly froze when her hand brushed against his leg accidentally. He then berated himself for acting like an inexperienced youth. He had to be nearly a thousand years older than her, this was ridiculous.

She, in turn, didn't seem to even notice. She just turned the rabbits and the potatoes so they roasted evenly, then sat back on the ground next to him. She was relaxed and comfortable and when she looked at him, her face was full of humor. “Been a while?”

He blinked at her, unable to fathom what she was talking about.

“Since you've been in proximity to another,” she clarified. Ahh, so she _had_ noticed.

“You might say that. Millennia of uthenera will do that.”

“You have been awake for quite a few years, I thought.”

He smirked, dredging it up from muscle memory alone. “That doesn't mean I've gone around indiscriminately touching everyone.”

She laughed, light and cheerful and Felassan felt heat prickle through his limbs. Now it truly was ridiculous, this overreaction to a friendly overture. He couldn't even tell if it was because of attraction or because there were times when his emotions were out of control even now, years after being 'cured'.

Thankfully, it didn't seem that he needed to respond further, since she had gone back to tending the fire. He was beginning to feel useless just sitting there while she did all the work, so he leaned forward and checked the meat. It was nearly ready, the juices running clear and the herbs crisped to the skin. He pulled the rabbits from their spits to rest. When he sat back, he caught her looking again. He met her eye and made a questioning face and it was her turn to flush and look away.

He didn't feel the need to point it out. It was delicate, this feeling. One wrong move would unravel it. It was enough to know they both felt it.

In the end, neither said anything more, but they shared their portions of dinner, working in tandem to serve and eat. They tossed their bones into the fire and heaved great sighs of satisfaction in a delicious meal worked with their own hands. They still sat next to each other and for a moment he was tempted to put his arm around her, or take her hand, but he didn't. That would have been too bold when he didn't know how she truly felt about things. Instead, he made some pretext of movement that allowed him to shift closer, just to see if she'd shy away.

She did not.

“Ma serannas,” he said softly as they watched the fire burn down. He wasn't sure what he was thanking her for, the meal, the company, or the understanding. It could have been all three.

“Da'banal,” she replied, just as soft. There was a quality to her voice he hadn't heard before. Questioning, testing. Unsure. It seemed as wildly improbable as his own blundering attempts to figure out where they were headed and he smiled. They were a right pair of disasters, weren't they? That made him feel better, he found, and he leaned back to look up through the trees to the sky.

The fire burned on, and she sat by his side in cozy silence, and the stars wheeled above their head.


	20. Breakfast In Bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/21/21
> 
> Dorian and Iron Bull

Compared to the entire level of a guard tower that Bull's chamber was – especially considering the holes in the ceiling – Dorian's room in Skyhold felt almost too small. But it was comfortable and he had been given permission by Carly to decorate it however he liked. So of course this meant he'd draped the walls with heavy brocaded blankets to block the pervasive cold, and laid a thick fur rug on the floor for the same reason. His fire was a glorious roaring thing, magically enhanced so it burned hotter, and well contained so it didn't spread. He'd hung expensive lamps filled with sweet smelling Tevinter oil and spread out his clothes on every available surface. It was the one place in this drafty old fortress that didn't make him feel freezing...or out of place.

On the downside, however, Bull never wanted to come here because he worried about knocking his horns into things. But that was a moot point anyhow at the moment. Bull was gone with Carly as they went hunting some dragon with Cassandra and Solas, and he had stayed behind because he was doing research. Besides, Emprise du Lion was colder than Skyhold, if such a thing was possible. He had been quite happy to stay behind in the dubious security of the keep. At least it didn't snow in the rotunda. However, he'd woken alone in his own bed for weeks now and he was grumpy about it.

For a moment, he lay in his lonely bed and let himself be morose. But before too long he grew irritated with himself for throwing a pity party and was just about to toss back the covers and get on with his day when there was a heavy thumping knock at the door. Only one man had a fist large enough to make that sound on wood. His heart gave a leap that was both ridiculous, since he was a grown man who shouldn't still have such a juvenile crush on the man he was sleeping with, and joyful, because that meant he was back and in one piece.

With a wave of his hand, Dorian unlocked his door and called out as nonchalantly as possible, “It's open, Bull.”

The door swung open, bringing with it a draft that made Dorian shudder and the scent of citron and honey, which made him sit bolt upright in the bed as he watched Bull come in with a platter balanced on his hand.

“What on the Maker's green earth...?”

Bull grinned at him, kicked the door closed, and flung Dorian's discarded coat from where it lay haphazardly across a small table to put his burden down. Dorian saw it was a wide selection of foods, and he recognized all of them. Glazed ham, honey cakes, candied citron peels wrapped in pastry, _peeled grapes_ , faintly steaming cinnamon tea.

“What is all this?”

“Breakfast,” Bull replied, in a tone that implied Dorian was an idiot.

“I can see that, but why?”

“Josephine told me they'd all come in on the last supply wagon when we got back last night. I thought I might share.” Dorian began to get up and Bull fixed him with a steely eye and a raised hand. “No, stay right there. I'm enjoying the view.”

Dorian realized belatedly that he was naked, disheveled from sleep and probably rosy from the fire. Not to mention, he and Bull hadn't seen each other in weeks. The blood diverted from his brain to regions further...south. However, he still kept a hold of his mental faculties long enough to cross his arms over his chest and huff. “Shall I just sit here and watch you eat all things Tevene, then?”

Bull's answering grin was sly. “Not _all_ things Tevene, not yet. Thought I'd save you for dessert.”

It shouldn't have made him blush, but it did. And in the time it took him to get that under control, Bull had pulled the table closer to the bed, sat down and offered him a citron pastry. Mindlessly – obediently, he was indignantly chagrined to note – Dorian opened his mouth and bit into it, spilling flaky crumbs everywhere and drops from the candied fruit across Bull's fingers. He wanted to chase after the sticky sweet drops, but Bull moved too fast and licked his own fingers. Dorian's heart pounded and his ears were ringing. How had he come to care for this giant beast so much? How did something so simple set him aflame?

The rest of the meal passed in a sort of daze for Dorian, although he would later recall that at least Bull had let him drink his tea by his own hand rather than feeding it to him. He fed him everything else, in between huge bites himself. When the platter was empty and Dorian was so replete he thought he might do something horribly vulgar like belch, Bull pushed the table back and stripped off his clothes. Dorian was summarily hauled up and over his body, held in place by Bull's big hands on his backside. They were both a mess, sticky with honey and crumbs, halfway into a haze of drowsy fullness from too much food.

Dorian didn't care. He was perfectly content now, draped across one of Bull's thighs, warmed by his body heat and anticipating whatever would come next. He looked at Bull with a lazy smirk, propped on his crossed arms. “I missed you, you filthy ox.”

Bull smiled back and cradled Dorian's neck to bring him closer still. “I missed you too, kadan.”


	21. Date Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/22/21
> 
> Varric and Hawke (and others)
> 
> This one actually has a 'time stamp'. Takes place during Solas's recovery in Kirkwall.

Bran laid a bill on his desk. Varric sighed, took off his reading glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not an easy task when it had been broken as many times as it had, and indeed, it was still suffering the ill effects of last night. Hence, the bill on his desk.

“Do I even want to ask?” Bran said dourly.

Long suffering, Varric would have called his seneschal if he was feeling charitable. But he wasn't. His head ached. He glared at the bill instead. Corff was getting testier in his dotage. _Destruction of property_ , the bill said. _Broken furniture, barrels, and lost ale_. _New_...

“New chandelier?” Varric read incredulously. “I wasn't aware the Hanged Man had one in the first place!”

Bran glowered at him. “What. Happened.”

***

“Stinger,” Varric said to Hawke, nudging her with his shoulder. “The boys look bored. We should take them out for a drink.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “You think that's a good idea? Iron Bull is Qunari, in case you missed it.”

“Yeah, but he's Tal-Vashoth. C'mon, they need to get out of here for a while. Let loose some of the tension they've got brewing with all this bedside manner shit. It's not like Chuckles is gonna suddenly wake up without telling us, least that's what Peaches said. We should drag her with us too.”

“On your own head be it, darling.”

He grinned at her. “Don't you want to have a little fun?”

“How much fun do you think a Tevinter mage is going to be in a Lowtown tavern?”

“Sparkler will surprise you, I think. He can hold his own under all that frippery.”

“All right, then.”

And it started out fine, just a group of visiting dignitaries in the seediest bar in existence, right? What could possibly go wrong? He found out when someone tossed a comment Bull's way about how he was looking at Dorian, and Dorian threw the first punch.

Admittedly, the Vint had had a few by that point.

And of course, Hawke had to defend the honor of her new friends, so she waded into the fray with fists already flying and a smile on her face. She got a bottle broken over the back of her head for her trouble. Must have been someone else not local. No one who knew the Champion would have dared. Her grin took on a sharper cast and she began kicking.

Varric couldn't very well sit out at that point, and he jumped in the middle, his strong arms taking out legs from his lower stature. He could hear Hawke's high pitched laughter, full of glee and enjoyment. Echoed by Bull's roar and Dorian's pointedly wicked wit. He shook his head and ducked under a flying chair.

What really shocked him was seeing Carly in the thick of it, her back to Dorian and Bull so they formed a sort of lopsided triangle. Her ears and vallaslin had already marked her as different, although no one had yet put together _Inquisitor_ from that. Not that it mattered at the moment, there was too much feral glint in her eye as she blocked and parried with the rest of them. Nobody even seemed to notice that one of her hands wasn't real. Funny, he would _never_ have pegged his Peaches for a brawler.

A solid _thwack_ landed on his face and he swung back blind, spitting and cursing as his eyes watered and his nose stung. It was starting to get rowdy now. Everyone in the bar had joined in. It was a free for all. He wasn't even sure there were sides to this fight. It began to wind down on its own, but then there was a crash, a few slurred insults from Dorian who was now sporting a rather magnificent glowing black eye, and the fight started up anew. In the end, the whole lower floor of the bar was a sticky, splintery mess. Varric saw Hawke tug Carly away from a tipped over candle just as it set a puddle of...something alight. Bull stamped his foot through the flames, extinguishing them before too much damage was done, or the fire spread. His blithely calm manner told Varric it wasn't his first time dealing with this sort of thing.

At the end of the night, he, Hawke, Carly, Dorian and Bull were left sitting at the last remaining table, laughing weakly at the excess as they surveyed the room. Tables were overturned, chairs smashed, broken glass glinted from numerous puddles of their contents. A candle plopped down from the ceiling and guttered out with a hiss. Norah wandered by with a tray of fresh mugs and Corff stood behind the bar, the black look on his face promising retribution. The other patrons had either slunk off to lick their wounds or were still groaning on the floor.

Hawke looked sublimely happy, and oddly enough so did the rest of them.

***

Varric looked up at Bran and smiled innocently. “It was date night.”


	22. Snuggling

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/23/21
> 
> Dorian and Iron Bull

“Why is it always so cold?” Dorian complained loudly, not caring in the slightest that his voice might carry outside of the tent. “How do these Southerners stand it?”

“Oh, what's the matter?” Bull asked, a bit of laughter in his voice. “Not enough slaves to rub your footsies?”

“My footsies are freezing, thank you, you big lummox.”

“C'mere, kadan.” Bull wrapped an enormous arm around him and hauled him close. Dorian was forced to admit, the Qunari radiated heat like a furnace. He curled into that heat, his back against Bull's chest, and finally felt himself relax. Bull chuckled in his ear.

“Don't start,” Dorian muttered.

“I'll start if I want to. You always make such a fuss about it.”

“Would you prefer me to wrap myself around you like a scarf?” As soon as the words left his mouth he realized he'd just given Bull an opening.

“A scarf isn't quite what I was thinking,” the ridiculous man whispered in his ear, breath hot and tone entirely too suggestive for a camp full of Inquisition scouts. As well as the Inquisitor herself who took great joy in poking fun at them both until Solas shut her up. Dorian shivered, but it was no longer from the cold. And Andraste save him, he knew he was about to encourage Bull further. He rolled over in his arms so they were facing each other and tucked himself against the broad scarred chest he pretended he didn't like.

“What were you thinking then?” he asked archly.

Bull grinned at him. He could see his teeth gleam in the scant light from the fire outside. Without any warning, he rolled to his back, bringing Dorian with him. “You make a fine blanket, kadan.”

Dorian tsked and grumbled under his breath, but they both knew he didn't mean any of it. He settled himself across Bull's body and felt the security of his arms go around him. He lay his head down and sighed. Bull's hands rubbed up and down his spine before dropping to his backside and squeezing.

“None of your games tonight, you oaf. We're in a camp full of people and I'm already worn out from all this infernal hiking Carly is so fond of. Honestly, why do we even have horses if the woman never uses them?”

Bull snorted. “Being in a camp full of people has never stopped us before.”

“Quiet. Leave it to you to pick out the part important to you.”

“Did you expect less?” Bull's hands were still on his ass and the heat of them had seeped through the thin layer of underclothes he'd worn simply because they weren't at home and this wasn't a pleasure jaunt.

Dorian decided he wasn't going to keep egging Bull on, and made a muffled grateful sound as Bull pulled up the spare bedroll over them as a real blanket. He knew sooner or later he would throw it off them because they would get too hot, but for now, it was fine. They were cocooned together, a tiny slice of peace. The camp was quieting down as the night watch took over from the day watch, and the suspicious amount of silence from the other tent told Dorian that Carly and Solas were equally as walled off from the world. He smiled.

“What are you thinking about?” Bull asked, probably having felt the twitch of Dorian's lips on his skin.

“Their tent is silenced.”

“Ours could be too.”

Dorian lifted his head to look up at Bull. He raised an eyebrow at him. “Do you want me to magically place wards around us? Magically?”

As always with the prospect of casual magic, Bull shuddered slightly. It was more of a joke between them rather than any real disagreement, and Dorian in no way felt insulted. He grinned at his lover. Bull was grinning back, his eye lit up with mirth. And Dorian noticed that while he was using the giant man as a pillow, Bull himself was laying on the hard ground, his horns nearly scraping the wall of the tent. He reached over and grabbed the pillow he insisted upon bringing, even though it took up too much room in their packs. He crawled up Bull's body to stuff it under his head.

As he did, Bull's chin scraped rather deliberately against his chest, the stubble of his beard rasping against his skin from belly to the hollow of his throat. Then he chuckled at the sound Dorian made. He looked down at Bull and met the heated gleam in his eye with something deliberately prim.

“Camp full of people,” he reminded him.

“You like it. The idea of getting caught.”

“Not tonight.” But even as he spoke, he ran his hand down from Bull's horn to his jaw, tracing the rough stubble. Bull grew very still under him, as always surprised at the simple intimacy of gentle touch. As if it was foreign to him and he didn't know quite how to react. Dorian knew the feeling. He leaned down and kissed him. “Maybe tomorrow, amatus. If I'm not worn out completely.”

“Do that again,” Bull demanded. Dorian rearranged himself so he was draped more comfortably across him and kissed him again. Again and again, until he began to forget his own words about the number of ears that might hear them. Until the sweet began to turn to spice with nips of teeth and fingers digging hard into his skin. He finally pulled away and smirked at the Qunari. “Goodnight, amatus.”

He snuggled down into the crook of Bull's neck, leaving his arm across him and one leg thrown over his waist. Bull huffed, sounding every bit as much like his namesake as he could.

“You'll pay for that, kadan.”

“Promise?”

Bull squeezed him tight, until he could barely breathe. But it was oddly gentle, the way Bull held onto him. It was an odd feeling as well, to be cherished by such a man. He wondered if Bull felt that way too. “I promise.”


	23. Finishing Each Other's Sentences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/24/21
> 
> Solas, with Felassan and Revanas

Solas struggled to keep his face neutral as he looked back and forth between his two agents. It was...

He sighed internally. It was what Carly would call 'cute'.

The pair continued to bicker, slightly barbed and full of the kind of inside references that happened when two people traveled extensively in each other's company, regardless of the circumstances. He cleared his throat, hoping to draw their attention back to him and finish their report, but neither seemed to hear him.

“I know you would have preferred another mode of travel,” Felassan was saying, his scowl fearsome and _false_. “But we made good time, and...”

“Yes, yes, got to see what Da'Fen will be taking back from the shemlen. I know, Felassan, I was there.” The Sentinel glowered back at Felassan, and her golden eyes snapped, but not with anger.

Was this a facade merely for his benefit, watching them and waiting to hear if their mission was a success? Or did they truly not know how aligned they had become in the short time they'd been thrown together?

“I'm well aware that you were there, Revanas. You left me in your dust frequently enough.”

“I told you...”

“You didn't do it deliberately, yes. I'm not sure I believe that.”

“You just like watching me go,” Revanas snapped and at Solas's sharply cut off snort, they both looked at him with identical expressions of guilt. At least they'd stopped bickering. He eyed them both with a raised eyebrow.

“The alienage,” he reminded them.

“It is empty, my Lord.”

“Don't call him that,” Felassan retorted, leaning back in his chair as if idly waiting to see some sort of reactive fallout. Solas decided against delving into another side topic regarding how he felt about being seen as some authority figure, even among his own agents.

“And the Eluvian?” he asked instead, keeping them to topic.

Felassan leaned forward again, propping his elbows on his knees and grinning. “Briala got it well hidden again. I don't even know where. You really should rethink your decision not to recruit her, Fen'Harel. Her network is vast and quick and knows Orlais better than any of us.”

“She is serving in her own way,” Solas replied. “Now, tell me about the meeting with the Empress.”

“It was fine,” Revanas said. “We delivered our message...”

“You mean, _I_ did,” Felassan pointed out. “You were too busy pretending you didn't speak Orlesian.”

“Well, I don't.”

“I offered to teach you...”

“And I told you it wasn't necessary. I do not expect to use it in the future.”

“You will if we get the Dales back for the People. Most of the elves that will move there will speak it as their mother tongue.”

Solas watched the interplay between them and covered his mouth with his hand so he didn't give away how much he was smirking. It was evident that the Sentinel had not given that much thought, and to be fair, he hadn't either. This was more Carly's work than his own. The only reason the pair was reporting to him was because she was finally getting some much needed rest. The siege of Skyhold had taken up too much of her time and energy, not to mention this meeting she was trying to set up between herself and Empress Celene.

“You delivered your message,” Solas said, interrupting the next brewing argument between the two of them. Spirits save him, if they didn't bed each other soon, there would be no dealing with them. And wasn't that just the most surprising thought he'd had pass through his mind in millennia? Relationships among his agents were not something he would have encouraged previously. He wondered idly if this was how Felassan regarded him when he and Carly were together.

“She agreed,” Felassan said in an offhand way, still glaring at Revanas. Well, attempting to glare. It held too much affection to be considered anger.

“Then you are dismissed,” Solas said, waving a hand at the door of the rotunda to unlock it. “Get some rest, you both look as though you could use it.”

“Yes, my Lord,” Revanas said automatically, rising from her seat. Felassan tsked at her as he followed.

“Don't call him that,” the man said, chiding her still. Solas watched as the Sentinel shoved Felassan in the shoulder, throwing him off his stride and nearly into a small figure approaching. He recognized the flash of light colored ceramic and blue glowing lyrium in the hand the figure threw up to ward off the collision.

“I know, ma fen, I'm supposed to be resting,” Carly said before Solas could do more than open his mouth to speak. “I just wanted to know they were back.” She turned to the pair and her face lit up. “Well, how'd it go?”

She disappeared with them, their chattering voices echoing out of the rotunda until the door thumped closed, giving him peace once more. He shook his head, absently swiped the lock of hair that kept falling in his eyes away with irritation, and went back to work.


	24. Established Relationship 'I Love You'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/25/21
> 
> Now for something completely different: Cole POV.

They didn't need him anymore. Not really. Not the same way. Much of the pain he'd come to help had gone, replaced by happiness and healing. Still, he enjoyed the peeking views he got of their thoughts, the simple things, the little actions that spoke more than words.

He watched the Wolf set down a cup of tea at the elbow of the Bright One. _Carly, she is Carly_ , he reminded himself. _They all have names, ways to know them apart from their spirits_.

The Wolf...Solas had made the tea for her, a gesture of his devotion. _He_ didn't like it, but he knew that she did, and he knew how she drank it. He put the tea next to her right hand, within easy reach as she worked. He pulled the straps off her left arm and pressed alleviating magic into the aches where her hand used to be. She smiled up at him and whispered a thank you. _I love you_ , Cole heard behind the gratitude.

Solas smiled back, his face soft and his hands gentle and his spirit quiet, at peace for the first time in uncounted years. _I love you_ , his actions said.

He flitted away from their chamber to the sprawling barracks below, where all the others lived and stayed when the Inquisition was at home. The Iron Bull was being bullied by Dorian. The mage was pushing him around, making him sit up with his back to him as he heated up his hands and rubbed the Qunari's shoulders and neck, soothing the soreness that was always there under his shouting.

Neither man was good at emotion, Cole had known this for a long time. It was beyond his ability to fix or help, but he remembered what Carly told him about hurt being part of love. That both could exist in the same form. And that the learning was part of love too. Dorian's hands and words said one thing, but his heart said _I love you_.

The Iron Bull's words said different things too, grumbling and complaining things. But his heart also said _I love you_. Kadan. It was important, that distinction. It meant something more than the word alone.

Cole moved on.

In the tower near the gate, he saw the Lion...no, the Commander...no...Cullen! He saw Cullen lean back in his chair while the kind woman, Ava, rubbed his temples. He had a headache, his body screaming still for something that sang in his blood, something he didn't take anymore, breaking the song into pieces to lay like shards of sour notes in his memory. Her touch made him forget the pain of it, made him stay in the moment.

When she was done, he took her hand and held it and they didn't speak aloud. _I love you_ , Cullen's thoughts said. Ava smiled down at him at his shoulder, her fingers warm and comforted by his grasp. _I love you_.

There was other love around Skyhold, little loves of company and quiet, bitter love of duty and sacrifice, the love of a job well done. The love of being alive after it had all seemed so dark and hopeless. In the moments before he left to go back to his wandering, a thought snagged him. It had his name attached to it and drew him like a moth to flame.

Carly was curled up with the Wolf, with Solas. Her thoughts and feelings wandered like Cole did. She was thinking of him, and wondering if he knew how much his presence gave her joy. That the world was better for him in it. Especially as he was, unbound, unbroken, unshackled.

“Like a mother to her son, the first gift is freedom.”

Carly's head popped up off her pillow and she smiled at him. “Hey, sweetie. Are you wandering tonight?”

“Yes. Taking a tally, a total of troubles taken away by love.”

She smiled again, sleepy and content and relaxed. “That's lovely. You have fun. Goodnight.”

He drifted away, catching only Solas's eye on him as he did, both in the waking and in the dreaming. There was love in Skyhold and they didn't need him anymore. But it was good to know that he was wanted.

Carly's words hadn't said it, but he could feel it. _I love you_.


	25. Tickling/Play Fight**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/26/21
> 
> *NSFW*
> 
> It's another two for one special today!
> 
> Carly and Solas

Later, Carly would wonder what had gotten into her. It wasn't like her to so thoroughly ambush a man while he was getting dressed for the day.

In the moment, however, she went with it.

Solas had his back to her, idly looking over something at the desk while he held his shirt in an absent fist. He was so absorbed in whatever it was that he hadn't noticed her watching him. His muscles shifted as he turned pages – some sort of report, probably from Vir'Abelasan, since every other report that came in was for her. She never tired of watching how his skin slid smoothly over his lean frame. But then the wicked idea came to her and before she could stop herself she was making her feet silent and her shape small to escape his detection. Which was always a worthy feat against Fen'Harel if she could pull it off.

She couldn't believe she'd gotten so close without him turning around. Although she saw the angle of his ears and knew that he knew she was there, he just didn't know what she was planning. She had to act fast, then.

Her fingers danced across his skin, around the curve of his waist to his ribs. He jumped nearly completely off the floor and the _sound_ he made was simply glorious. High pitched, squeaky and utterly undignified for an Elvhen god. Carly nearly fell backwards with how hard she was laughing. He whirled around, his face set in a forbidding scowl with bright, playful eyes and she knew retribution was coming and began backing away, still chortling.

“Vhenan,” he growled, setting off a firestorm of sparks in her blood as she sidestepped away from him.

“Yes, ma fen?” she managed, still gasping with giggles.

“Are you so tired of living already?”

She grinned and continued to back away as he followed, his steps measured and stalking compared to her more erratic retreat. “It was so worth it.”

He arched a brow at her and she saw his wolf leg tattoos jump on his chest as his body telegraphed his next move. She knew him well, and knew for sure he wasn't above cheating to get his own way. 'Cheating' in this instance being the use of magic. Timing would be critical.

He Fade-stepped, intending to grab her. She was well aware that if he caught her, the game would be all over and she'd never get the upper hand back. She swiveled on her feet as he became a blur of motion and all he managed to grasp was the back of her tunic. In one fluid movement she ducked out of it, leaving herself topless but free of his freezing cold hands. She hopped away, laughing anew at the look on his face.

He was shocked that she'd evaded him so neatly.

She couldn't crow, however. That would waste precious seconds of her next attack. In the momentary stillness of his surprise, she whirled back towards him, skirting close enough that her nails raked along his side with a whisper before she danced away once more. He didn't squeal this time, to her disappointment, but he scowled further and mirrored her steps so she couldn't escape him again.

She had two options. She could let him catch her. Or she could utilize her own 'cheat' and backflip out of range. The chamber was large enough, she had clearance and space. Just before he reached for her she sprang, coiled tight and precise. She landed on the other side of the room from him and saw that his expression had turned cunning and gleeful.

“A chase, is it?” he asked, his voice soft and her favorite shade of dangerous. She grinned.

“Of course. If the Dread Wolf is going to catch me, I'd better make him work for it.”

He eyed her bare torso and smirked. “And when I catch you?”

They were circling each other now, keeping the width of the chamber between them. She knew he would win, he always did. It was simply a matter of choosing where they ended up. “I've already gotten the best two of three shots in, that's better than average. I guess if you catch me I'll have to pay whatever consequence you feel is necessary.”

“ _If_?” he stressed.

She saw his eyes rove over the room almost too quickly to follow and knew he was thinking the same thing she was. This was now a race to figure out where they'd end up. She was too far from the bed and the sofa was in his way. The balcony was out; it was too cold and too visible to the denizens below now that it was full morning. Her desk was covered with reports for both of them, and while he rarely cared about making a mess of his own things, he wouldn't displace hers. Which left any wall he could pin her against or the floor itself.

She began to angle herself to get back on the carpet, still watching him warily for his next move. His answering grin was sly, as if he'd followed her train of thought as easily as he had once done when he could actually hear it. She realized she'd put her back to the wall just as his gaze went over her shoulder for the briefest second. Before she could move, he'd rushed her, lifting her right off her feet by her waist and hoisting her over his shoulder.

“Ack!” she hollered. “Solas, put me down!”

“I don't think so, vhenan. The challenge was to catch you, and so I have.”

“Oof,” she grunted as she tried to lever herself upright on his shoulder. Their skin stuck together and he was digging into her gut where she was sprawled over him. “This seems unfair.”

“These are the consequences for making me remember that I am vulnerable to such an attack.”

“It's hardly my fault you're ticklish,” she retorted. Meanwhile the hand not holding her secure was untying the laces of her breeches then smoothing over her backside as he pulled them off, taking her smalls with them.

“You are too bold, Dalish. No other would even dare.”

She snickered and leaned up enough to flick his ear. A light smack landed on her bare ass. She shouted indignantly and he chuckled. The hand still cupping her trailed across her skin so gently she shivered. He did it again, so light she squirmed as it tickled. Her legs thrashed in helpless reaction and she realized she'd just helped him by kicking off her pants.

“Oh, that was low, Fen'Harel. Remind me not to fall in love with a trickster again.”

“I was unaware there were other tricksters you might fall in love with, vhenan,” he said lightly, hefting her weight back into his arms. Her back landed against the wall with a scrape and she flinched. His face instantly changed from playful to concerned and he pulled her away from the rough cobblestones. “Hmm, a strategic error.”

“Well, I _am_ the one who escaped by losing my shirt,” she retorted. He smirked and nodded his head in acknowledgment of the fact. He sank to his knees instead, leaving her to straddle him.

“Is this preferable?” he asked, to all appearances completely sincere. But there was still a playful gleam in his eyes that Carly knew better than to take at face value. Not that she had any doubts as to where this whole scenario was heading.

“I suppose,” she said, wiggling on his lap. “Nothing to stop me from dashing away again, though.”

“That is true,” he agreed. “However...” His thumb swiped between her legs and she bit her lip to halt a moan. He banded his arm around her back, holding her in place. Then he leaned in close to whisper in her ear. “If you dash away, I will no longer be able to touch you.”

“You're right,” she gasped breathlessly as he toyed with her. “It's a difficult decision.”

“Allow me to add another variable.”

He kissed her and she looped her arms around his neck to stay close. It was a distraction, she realized belatedly as he impaled her on his cock. She hadn't even noticed him undoing the laces of his breeches. She gasped as he filled her, too content to complain. His thumb pressed against her and he guided her body to rise and fall on him. Her climax rose quickly and she bit his lip to keep from crying out. Sound traveled too easily in their stone castle, and they'd already been making enough of it.

He urged her on, lifting his hips into her rhythm as she rode him, his lips trailing across her throat and collarbones. He bit her in his favorite spot and she fell over the edge.

“Solas...!” she gasped and stuttered, shattering around him like glass. He didn't stop, his upwards thrusts growing deeper and stronger as he chased his own release. She held tight to his shoulders and buried her face against his neck. With a grunt in her ear, he spilled in her, throbbing against her in a way that made her come again with a gasp.

He cradled her afterwards, ignoring the position that had to be uncomfortable for him. She lifted her head and kissed him again. “I feel like that wasn't exactly paying me back for anything.”

“Are you seeking some sort of punishment, vhenan? I could put my mind to it.” His smirk was warm and loving...and promising.

“Hmm, maybe later? We should probably both actually get our day started.”

“You are right.” He stood effortlessly, still holding her up. It was always breathtaking when he did that. He set her on her feet carefully, giving her one last kiss. “I shall simply leave you with the anticipation of reprisal.”

She blew out a raspberry at him. “Now I won't be able to get any work done today, you know that, right?”

His only answer was a grin.


	26. Pillow Fight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/27/21
> 
> Felassan and Revanas

Felassan leaned casually against the doorjamb of Revanas's room in the barracks. She was packing, since she was going with the team of Sentinels to oversee the humans leaving the Dales now that they were back in elven hands.

“I'll miss you,” he said suddenly, surprising himself a little by allowing the sentiment aloud. Revanas looked over her shoulder and snorted.

“When will you find the time? I hear you're going to be busy yourself.”

He grinned. She wasn't wrong. There was a fair amount to do in Skyhold before Fen'Harel could finish the task he'd set for himself. “I'll still miss you.”

Revanas threw her pillow at him. He caught it just before it hit his face. On reflex he tossed it back to her, but she wasn't facing him, so it plopped into her back. She straightened up and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes lighting up with playfulness. He stayed where he was and smirked at her. She scooped up the pillow and threw it again, this time harder. He managed to catch only the corner of it while the rest puffed into his face.

“Oh, is that how it's going to be?” he said, gripping the pillow a little more firmly and pushing away from the door. He crossed the room and _thwapped_ the pillow across her side. She laughed and whirled around, trying to get the pillow away from him, but he didn't let it go. A sort of tug of war ensued, each of them snorting and laughing and pulling each other off balance until Revanas fell back against the wall and Felassan followed her, still determined not to let her have the pillow back. It was crushed between them and abruptly he didn't care about the silly antics anymore.

It seemed she didn't either. She let go of the pillow and cupped his face in her hands, her light golden eyes searching his for a moment before she drew him close and kissed him. Her lips were soft and warm under his, and he angled his head to deepen the kiss, sinking into her mouth until they were both gasping for air. He let the pillow fall from between them to the floor and pressed his chest to hers. She grinned at him and twined her arms around his neck.

“How much will you miss me?” she whispered.

“I will miss you like air,” he whispered back and kissed her again. She giggled and nipped his lower lip and he crowded against her more, needing to feel her body mold itself to his. And all the while he kept kissing her.

They were breathless and overheated and near desperate when they pulled away from each other, both of them regretting that they didn't have the time to let their desire take its course. He smiled gently at her. He was a patient man and she wouldn't be gone forever. The time and distance would make their reunion that much the sweeter. He placed a final kiss on her lips and stepped back with the thought that he would let her get back to her packing. In all honesty, he had things he should be doing too, and he'd already put them on hold long enough to come and have a private farewell with her.

Revanas stayed against the wall for another moment, then bent over to pick up the now misshapen pillow from the floor. It looked like she was just going to toss it back on the bed right up until she whacked him with it one last time.

“I win,” she said.


	27. New Tradition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2/2821
> 
> Carly...and everyone else (and I do mean everyone)
> 
> There is a dash of headcannon glitter here too.

The first ones through the Kirkwall Eluvian were Varric, Hawke and Bethany, which was no surprise to Carly, since she'd given them the password for it to use at their leisure. It sure made visiting with them easier. Varric was carrying two bottles under his arm, as well as a wrapped manuscript that was his gift to Carly. Hawke was hefting the dessert they'd brought – a layered confection that Carly was certain Orana had made rather than Hawke herself. But she wasn't going to quibble. Bethany had brought bread, so fresh it still steamed. It was handed off to one of Misyl's kitchen helpers before it cooled.

The next ones expected were Bull and Dorian, riding up the pass from Haven. They'd stayed in constant communication via her crystal, so she would know when they reached the bridge. Solas had cleared it the night before, holding back the snow with a barrier that he easily left in place now that no Veil existed over Skyhold. The rest were due to arrive in the next few hours. Even Divine Victoria was coming.

Carly flitted around the keep, going between the kitchen where Misyl was tending the august rams roasting in the big ovens, to the Great Hall, where a tall, sturdy evergreen stood where her throne had. Cole was already there, hanging baubles of glass conjured up by each of the Sentinels still residing in the fortress. Felassan was setting tiny mage lights among the boughs, making each one look like living flame. Revanas was helping him, lifting them into the higher branches as he crafted them.

Abelas and Solas were rearranging the long tables so they were a continuous line down the center of the Hall. A few others were finding benches to go with them. The Great Hall was decorated with twined holly branches and ivy, curling and draping over every fireplace and window. Someone had enchanted the roof to be clear. When Carly looked up, she could see snowflakes dancing through their air before they hit the magic that rested deep in the bones of their home, dissipating it before it could gather and make everything slushy and cold. Once it got dark enough, they would light up the keep with more mage lights rather than the chandeliers.

“Peaches!” Varric called from the door. “Sparkler and Tiny are here!”

She raced to follow the dwarf down the steps to the lower courtyard where Bull and Dorian were stamping off the snow from their feet after riding up the pass. A pair of hostlers took their mounts to the stable. Bull shook himself, feeling the change in the air with no Veil, but Dorian seemed to revel in it. Spirits floated around them, but kept their distance.

“Mae sends her love,” Dorian was saying to Varric, who grinned. And something clicked in Carly's mind that she was shocked to have never considered before.

_“What's a deshyr from the Merchant's Guild doing in the middle of a battle against ancient evil?”_

_“I could ask the same of a pampered noble Tevinter._ ”

They had already known each other, way back then, at the start of all this. Or at least had known _of_ each other. Maevaris was the widow of Varric's cousin, and she was also Dorian's closest friend. How had she never put it together before? Why else would Dorian know Varric was a deshyr, a particular rank not well known outside of dwarven circles. And Varric had immediately called Dorian on being a noble, despite the fact that when he'd arrived in the Inquisition it was with barely more than the clothes on his back.

“Next year, she better come with you,” Carly called out as she crossed the final steps to greet them. Bull engulfed her in a hug that lifted her off her feet, then Dorian squeezed her just as tight. “I have a feeling there's so much I need to ask her.”

“I'll pass that along,” Dorian said with a grin. “Does that mean we'll be doing this every year?”

“I plan to, yeah. All the trimmings, none of the family drama.” They shared another grin and then she put them to work, helping Solas and Abelas finish the tables. Dorian began lighting the candles that sat every few place settings, marveling at how easily he could call fire to his fingertips here.

Carly repeated her greetings as each member of the Inner Circle arrived, either by Eluvian or across the bridge. Cullen and Ava brought the cheese platter, of course. Josephine came with a tightly tied bag of Antivan coffee in her hands, to go with dessert. Cassandra, arriving with Leliana and Thom, brought apples dipped in hard sugar. Leliana herself brought Orlesian cakes in a stack of boxes she was making Thom carry. Morrigan, Kieran and the man Carly knew only as the Hero of Ferelden arrived in a swoop before Morrigan shifted herself back from dragon form.

“Carly,” Morrigan said, accepting the smallest hug possible after Kieran had practically clung to her, “you've not met Aedan, have you?”

The former Warden and vanquisher of Urthemiel was a tall man with brooding eyes and a quiet smile. He shook her hand readily and looked around the crowd of people of various races gathered. “You've changed the world, Inquisitor Lavellan.”

“You did too,” Carly returned. “But I'm not the Inquisitor anymore. Carly is fine.”

He nodded to acknowledge that and didn't get to say anything else before Leliana swept him away with a joyful cry. Even Cullen was beaming to see him. Before long, Bethany had joined their conversation and she was sure it had turned to more Warden related matters.

Carly realized then that she'd brought all three of the games she knew under one roof and stood back to just watch how they interacted with each other. Of course, there were faces missing. Vivienne had sent her regrets on a flowery card. Sera and Dagna had sent a note too, along with a jar of bees. Red Jenny business was keeping them somewhere in Ferelden. Privately, Carly thought it might be more because of the free spirits in the fortress rather than anything else, but she understood and wasn't upset.

Everyone had arrived and for a couple of hours it was a loud, boisterous reunion of friends and meeting of strangers as they caught up, drank too much wine and hung ornaments on the tree at Carly's direction. When Misyl announced the feast was ready, they all stood together and watched the array of kitchen staff bring in the roasts, as well as all the side dishes to go with them. Whipped potatoes, squashes quartered and roasted with sugar, a dish of elven origin spiced with flavors long forgotten except by her retinue of Elvhen. Which, when she thought about it, she noticed outnumbered the human guests for a change.

“Let's eat!” Carly cried and let Solas lead her to the center of the long table.

The meal was excellent and the wine flowed freely. As did the conversation. The glow of the candles on the table, as well as the mage lights sent up one by one by both human mages and Elvhen, gave everything a softer look. The tree was finished and the small gifts exchanged between those that had brought them. Carly felt like her heart might burst with joy.

“This is a good tradition,” Josephine said as they stood back while the elves engaged the humans in a game of wits that seemed to combine charades with puns. Surprising no one at all, Varric had the current highest score, with Felassan not far behind him. The laughter from the table was echoing off the walls of the keep.

“I'm glad I was able to pull it off,” Carly replied. “And have you all here. I know for some of you the idea of coming here has been...”

“An adjustment?” Josephine laughed. “It is a new world, as Warden Cousland said. We _must_ adjust to it, or be left behind by it.”

“I suppose that's true.”

“You have achieved a peace unthought of for millennia, you know. I'm proud of you.”

“Thanks, Josie.”

They quieted again as they had the various desserts and sipped the coffee Josephine brought. It was growing late, and many of the guests had to return to their normal lives. Leliana gave her a long hug before she slipped back through the Val Royeaux Eluvian, once more becoming Divine Victoria after her 'night off'. Varric and the Hawke sisters slipped away too, with promises to host Carly and Solas for dinner soon. Bull and Dorian would be staying and a room had been prepared for them. She offered the same to Morrigan and Aedan, who took her up on it since Kieran was nearly asleep in his cakes. Cullen took Ava back to his old room with a grin, and Cassandra and Thom ended up heading back to Orlais through the same mirror Leliana had used. Josephine went with them.

Hours after everything had been cleared away and the Great Hall put back to rights, Carly stood in front of the tree, just looking at it. She heard soft Elvish and turned to see Solas, Felassan and Revanas approaching.

“I did not know humans could be so comfortable around us,” Revanas said in her accented Common.

“Well, I kinda bullied them into it over the years,” Carly said with a sly grin. “Being seen as some kind of religious icon gave me perks.”

Solas snorted. “You have wrought wonders, vhenan. I never doubted you would.”

“Thanks, ma fen.” She leaned on him then, feeling his arm steal around her waist. “Hey, where'd Cole get off to?”

“I believe he went back across.”

“Ahh, okay. I'm glad he made it.”

“And we'll do this again next year?” Felassan asked.

“Yes. It's a piece of my home world I've missed too much to give up now.”

“I approve.”

She smirked at him. “Thanks, lethallin. You don't know how crestfallen I'd be without your approval.”

He made a face at her and she stuck out her tongue at him. Solas chuckled.

“And you say we are bad,” he commented. “The pair of you will be the death of me.”

“Turn about is fair play, my love.”

“Hmm.” He gave her a squeeze and they said goodnight to the others. Once they were in their chamber he turned to her and cupped her face. “Are you happy?”

“Very.”

“Good.” He kissed her once, twice. By the third kiss, conversation was forgotten.


	28. Bonus Fluff - Carly's Message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 3/1/21
> 
> Carly

_I've been here a long time now. Years of my life spent in Thedas, and I have so much to show for it. I saved the world, isn't that funny? And I fell in love, isn't that just..._

_...wonderful._

_I never thought I'd end up with him, of all people. Not in real life. Not when I knew going in that he was a pedantic know-it-all with too much time on his hands and not enough people telling him no. But then he looks at me, and he sees me. I don't know what he sees, exactly, only that it's something...someone...that he wants. That's not to say we haven't had our differences, of course we have. We squabble and fight like any other couple. It's kind of funny when I think of it, really. I mean, he's a fucking god. And I pick fights with him like he's just a stubborn old man who's never been put in his place enough._

_I'm pretty sure he knows what he means to me. I tell him often enough. And hell, he used to be able to read my mind. There were definitely times that made communication easier between us. I kinda miss it, really._

_I could gush on and on about how much I love him. From the stupid surface things like how hot he is, to be the really deep things like how much he cares about the world and how much he feels like he needs to fix it. I can appreciate the level of guilt he carries even if I would like nothing better than to kick it to the curb. We all have our baggage, though. His just takes up the whole train._

_I guess my point is that I would love him no matter what. He says I wouldn't have liked him when he was younger. Hot head supreme. He's partially right. I probably would have been far more tempted to bash his smug face in than I am these days. But I kinda wish I'd known him then. More trickster, less survivor. It's so hard to make him belly laugh now. Eh, I suppose he could probably say the same thing about me. I'm not the person I was when I fell out of the Breach. I'm not even the same person I was after sealing it. We all change, all the time. A life lived in transience._

_I don't see that as a bad thing, as long as our transience is parallel._

_I'm not sorry I won't ever get to go back to Earth. The life I led there was empty. This life? This life is so full I wonder if I'll ever even comprehend it all. Presumably I have time. Earth girl becomes immortal Elvhen. What a headline that is. I have plans for this world. Plans for my adopted people. And all of them include him. Forever and a day._

“Vhenan, are you ready? It is time.”

“Coming, ma fen.”

Carly tucked her pen into her journal and flexed her hand to get rid of the cramp in it. She was already dressed in the traditional flowing and layered robes of a noble Elvhen. All things considered, they were pretty comfortable. All she needed were her shoes, since unlike native born elves, she had none of the inherent immunity to the elements the way they did. Solas liked to tease her about that until she reminded him that she also didn't need to weave any spells to prevent herself from getting sunburns on the crown of her head because she knew how to wear a hat.

She slipped her feet into her slippers and dashed down the stairs from their chamber to meet him in the Great Hall. He looked regal in his own set of robes and she laced her arm in his happily as they crossed the keep to where the others waited. They took their places, side by side, and she watched as the Eluvian lit up from within.

She smiled at the first Elvhen who stepped through it, their long sleep over and the new world begun. It was a good day.

~Fin~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This concludes another Fluff-uary. Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Sidenote to myself: congrats, Lamb, on your 20th DA:I fic.


End file.
